Sonata in Gray
by halfcurehalfdisease
Summary: Rosa's dream is to be a successful musician. Everyone else (that dratted rival Hugh, too) seems to think she'd make a more successful Trainer. Who is right? And does it have to be one way or another...or could she be both? Sequelshipping, rated T for language and content
1. Key Change

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or its characters. Nor do I want to own it for the amount of hate that the designers get for their Pokemon designs from generation to generation.

* * *

Rosa's POV:

My fingers seek out a low chord on the old upright piano, rattling against the wood as I jam my fingers into the keys. It reminded me of the thrum of wings and the low growl of Mom's now-deceased Liepard, bless his soul. _But it's not quite right yet, _I think, and I adjust one note. The chord is mildly discordant and clearly ugly, so I slide my pinkie down a half step, onto a black key. It's still in minor but it doesn't sound half as disturbed as it did before. _Perfect. _I hum a low note and play the same chord again. Meanwhile, rain drums against the windows. It's a chilly, rain-dappled spring, but I'm in a stormy, middle of summer mood, and my piano playing reflects upon it. I adjust my fingers, changing the tonality of the chord, and work on a moody chord progression. Humming another note, I let my fingers go to town, tapping out new harmonies for the melody inside my head.

I play these chords…and I think.

I've written a few songs before, but they were impersonal and cutesy at best. They were pop tunes, honestly, and the words were silly and without meaning. However, this song, this intertwining of slightly clashy notes and smooth transitions, feels like it could mean something. If I derive lyrics for this melody, I know for a fact that it'd mean something beautiful and moving.

But writing lyrics isn't my strong suit. It's infuriating, knowing a thousand melodies and not a single decent word to put to them.

Mom walks through the room as I pound out the piano harmony, humming the melody without words, rocking back and forth to the pulse. I can hear her Audino's plopping footsteps. "Rosa," Mom starts to ask, "are you writing another song?"

"Yes I am," I reply, quickly playing a chromatic scale up into a new key and continuing my chord progression.

She chuckles and responds, "I hope you figure out what you want to do with all these songs."

"I hope the same thing," I respond and swoop down to my ending notes and swivel to look at Mom and her Audino. Mom is pretty and looks like she isn't old enough to be my mother—people literally do ask if she's my older sister in all seriousness. She has all of three gray hairs on her head that aren't too noticeable, and I know those are from Dad's sudden and harsh exit. She has sandy hair always pulled into a knot at the crown of her head and warm brown eyes. Likewise, she has a proclivity for zany clothing and tries to make me dress similarly when I really have no clothing preferences. I realize she's won at her latest attempts to dress me in wild clothes; I'm wearing a blue and white baseball shirt and ruffled yellow shorts over black leggings with my long hair tied partially into twin buns.

Mom gives me a gentle smile. "I don't want to interrupt, but I have a very cool surprise for you."

_A tune-up for my piano or a new amp for my bass? _I think hopefully. Knowing Mom, there is something a little wilder and less understandable in store. She pats her Audino's head and says, "I heard from Aurea while you were playing piano."

She realizes that there's a blank look on my face, and she elaborates, "Aunt Aurea? Professor Juniper?"

_Oh. The leading Pokémon Professor in this region. Mom's friends. _I ask, "What did she need?" I know for a fact that the Professor, my mother's old friend and former neighbor, hasn't spoken to her since a week after Dad's disappearance two years ago. She's a busy woman who made friends with another really busy woman, my mother, and so they very rarely saw each other or spoke.

Mom replies, "She needs someone to complete a Unova Pokedex for her."

"Who?"

"She wants you to do it, of course!" she responds cheerily. I nearly fall off of the piano bench. _Me? Why? _Never in my life have I had a Pokémon. Audino, who is the sweetest Pokémon I've ever met, has no love for me. Mom's Liepard never had any fondness for me, either. Anyway, if I can't get an Audino to like me, how am I supposed to get any other species, all of which are far more violent, to like me and listen to me?

Mom seems to see the worried expression on my face and she reassures me, "You have my genetics, and you have your father's as well. Your father might suck as a parent, darling, but he was a great Trainer, and I almost defeated the League before I started working in the Pokémon Center, so I think you have a very good possibility of being an apt Trainer." She pauses, regaining her breath after her speech, and continues speaking. "Now, she said to go find a girl in a big, floppy green hat, and that she gets lost easily, even in small cities like our Aspertia City. Her name is Bianca. She'll give you your starter and your Pokedex."

My head seems to be spinning, but I don't believe that Mom notices.

She tosses something at me, and after I catch it, I realize it's a duffel bag that converts into a backpack. "Go out there. Find her. Get a Pokedex. Have fun."

I blink. "Right now?"

"Aurea likes to jump the gun, what can I say?" Mom says, ruffling one of my bun/pigtails affectionately. "Now GO ALREADY!" she booms, and I stumble away from the piano bench to exit the house.

I walk up the street, glancing back at my house. It's one-story and adorable—there aren't many like it in this city filled with multiple families living in an apartment complex. I'll miss it, even the tomato garden. Tomatoes are gross, but Mom sure loves growing them, forgetting about them, and then making me care for them instead.

The light rain is tapering out, leaving me slightly damp as I hop out of the gutter. My fingers itch to play the harmony I'd figured out on the piano. A lot has changed in such a short period of time, and I don't know what to think of it yet. I'm a musician on a good day and a capricious pencil-tapper surrounded by paper scraps while overdosing on hour-long symphonies and bluesy rock with heavy bass on a bad one. Pokémon aren't part of the composition of my life. I appreciate them and admire them, but I never even thought I'd see myself with any until just a few minutes ago.

"Rosa!"

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice. Walking down the street toward me is my friend Hugh with his younger sister, Taylor, holding onto his arm. Hugh has yet to hit a serious growth spurt, standing only two or three inches taller than me when he's nearing his seventeenth birthday, though his spiky, blue-black hair gives him some extra height. He has dark red eyes and wears a red and white jacket to match. In short, he can be a bit intimidating, even if he hasn't grown much yet. His sister Taylor contrasts him greatly. She can't be much older than nine, with pale, mousy hair, huge russet eyes, and warmer skin than her brother. Today, she's decked out in head-to-toe pink.

Presently, Hugh smirks when he notices my bewildered expression. "Spaced out, were we?" he asks, turning to walk towards me.

I nod, still wrapped up in both the melody of a wordless song and the fact that I'll suddenly be a Pokémon Trainer…as soon as I find this Bianca person. Taylor looks at me oddly; it's as though she knows what's in my head. Shooting her a meaningful glance, I say, "It looks like I'm leaving."

"What?" Hugh gives me a furtive look. "Why are you leaving? You just moved here like three years ago."

I throw up my hands defensively. "It's been, two, Hugh. But not like that! I'm going on a journey!" I say, pushing my sleeves up over my elbows.

Hugh's eyes brighten. "You mean you're actually getting a Pokémon?"

I give a nod and he fist pumps. However, he dampens down his excitement when he notices Taylor's expression. Why does Taylor have such a glum expression, anyway? She has always been so naturally light and chirpy, if not particularly talkative. Hugh says, "Well, good for you, Rosa. I thought you weren't planning on being a Trainer, though. I thought you were going to be a 'musician,'" he says, putting air quotes around the word.

I scowl at him. He's never been supportive of my idea in the two and a half years I've known him, but he's also obsessed with the idea of finding a rival and traveling the region. I chide, "Don't hate on my dreams."

"Just saying, considering the fact that you don't play in front of anyone aside from your mom. That isn't going to help you," he says matter-of-factly.

I respond sharply, "Maybe it's because no one else cares, Hugh. I'm going to go find the person who has my starter and my Pokedex." I continue walking, feeling cut by Hugh's words.

Hugh and Taylor trot after me, but I spare neither of them a glance. Have I ever made fun of his dreams, even if they're even more juvenile and colorful than mine? No. I think I have the right to be offended by what he said about my goals and dreams in life. Unlike Hugh, I've never vowed to be the best or the strongest. I just want to play my music. "Rosa, slow down," he calls, "I didn't mean to be rude."

"You're setting a bad example for Taylor!" I chime in a singsong voice.

I can almost hear the burn of Taylor's glare on Hugh's face. She murmurs, "You were mean, big brother."

Hugh sighs. "Okay, fine. Sorry, Rosa. Didn't realize I was being such a butthead. And don't copy big brother, all right, Taylor?"

I'm actually smiling now. At least his sister has given him some conscience over the years. When I first met him, he'd remark on everything with about as much tact as a starved Lillipup seeking food scraps. "Taylor, should we forgive him?" I ask.

Taylor replies, "I guess."

"That's a good enough answer for me," I say, shrugging melodramatically. If music doesn't work for me, I could always be an overly theatrical movie star, working for PokeStar Studios in Virbank City.

"You guys GUESS?" Hugh thunders. Then he sighs. "Look, Taylor, I'm going to drop you off at home when we walk by it, and then I'm going to go with Rosa while she gets her Pokémon."

Within two minutes, we're in front of the building Hugh lives in with Taylor and his mom. Their mom is outside. She's a formerly pretty woman who aged quickly when her husband took a job on an oil rig to the southeast of Humilau City. Her hair is ruffled and dark (albeit graying) like a toned-down version of Hugh's, and her eyes are russet like her daughter's. Up close, she has Pidove's feet in the corner of her eyes and more lines around her mouth than what was normal for her age: the signs of an anxious woman.

Taylor trots obediently over to her mom. Watching us closely as she embraces her daughter, Hugh's mom asks, "Hugh, Rosa, where are you two going?"

"On a journey!" Hugh yells, grabbing my arm. "But Rosa needs a Pokémon first."

She sighs, leaning on a broom she'd previously been sweeping with. It was rare that she wasn't cleaning; it was her nervous habit. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

I raise one hand awkwardly as I say, "My mom kicked me out of the house to work for Professor Juniper and complete a Pokedex."

"And this means I finally have a rival to help me get stronger," Hugh says to himself, but more loudly he says, "So don't worry about me. I'm leaving now." With my arm still in a death grip, he waves to his mom one last time before dragging me out of eyeshot of the house. I doubt his mom is going to be very happy with him if he doesn't return to explain things to her.

"So the only reason you're leaving is because I'm leaving?" I ask incredulously.

Hugh gives me a pointed look and retorts, "Yeah. I need a rival who isn't a twelve year old trying to mimic that Kanto Champion Red's style. Problems?"

Hugh stops suddenly, and we're standing on the street corner about a block past his house. The Pokémon Center is visible from here; two young Trainers with a pair of Lillipups are battling each other just outside of it. "Hey, Rosa, where's this green hat lady at?" he asks, gazing at me with questioning mercury eyes.

I give a helpless shrug. "I was just told to go look for her. She gets lost a lot, I guess."

"Fantastic," Hugh mutters. He sweeps his arm out to the side. "Lead the way, then."

I sigh. It's going to be a long afternoon with Hugh if we don't find Bianca, isn't it?

* * *

"Well, Hugh, we can conclude she's nowhere near your apartment building, the Pokémon Center, or in front the Gym that'll be opening soon."

"We can also conclude that we, as trainers, are screwed if the professor of this region sends someone into a city she's never been and doesn't tell her where to go…because then that means they're both idiots."

"Oh. I called my mom. Apparently, Bianca was given directions to the Pokémon Center."

"…but she wasn't there. There wasn't anyone in a green hat there."

I sighed. "I guess she's really lost, huh?"

It's past three in the afternoon, and Hugh and I have scoured a good chunk of the city. There's no one in a green hat around, nor does anyone look particularly lab assistant-y. We're sitting on a curb directly across from the Pokémon Center. If the growing silence between us means anything, Hugh's at a point where he'll soon be pissed beyond words. I'm not particularly angry about being unable to find Bianca; Hugh, on the other hand, will probably hold a grudge against her for the rest of his days unless we find her in the next fifteen minutes.

I think for a few minutes, trying to shut off the music in my brain and simultaneously decide where Bianca could've gone to. We hadn't checked some of the apartment complexes earlier, but I doubt that we're going to find some professor's assistant in an apartment complex.

"We could go up to the lookout," I suggest, nodding up to the top of the large hill that shadowed the town. "We could look for a green hat from up there, you know."

"Don't want to," Hugh mutters, but we still get off the curb, anyway. Doing something is better than doing nothing, knowing him. I've heard stories, from some of the friends he'd had in grade school, about how he used to get in trouble in class for drumming his fingers, tapping pencils, and playing roughly out at recess. After spending a lot of time with him since I moved to this city, I know he isn't trying to make trouble when he does things like that. He's just filled with somewhat volatile energy and constantly feels so caustically impatient that some people can't really put up with him.

Reaching the base of the hill, Hugh's spirits seem to lift. "I'll race you to the top," he suggests, a wry grin warming up his cool features.

I nod…and take off. "Hey!" Hugh barks, but I'm flying. If there's anything aside from music that I love deeply, it's running. I have long legs for my height and a natural love of movement. Hugh struggles to gain on me as I dash, laughing, up the hill, my bag bouncing against my thigh.

"You little twit!" Hugh yells at me, not unkindly. I bark with laughter again and sprint to the top of the lookout, leaping to the top of the hill.

"I beat you!" I exclaim, hands on my hips, and Hugh growls as he comes in second, not at all closely.

That's when a new voice interrupts Hugh before he can as much as snap at me. It's female and chirpy, probably only our age or a few years older. "Hey, are you Rosa?" this voice asks as I turn around. Standing behind us is a curvy young woman with fluffy blonde hair and wire-frame glasses…wearing a floppy green hat. She's Bianca.

I smile. "Yes, and you're Bianca with the green hat," I say, gesturing to her hat. She adjusts it and trots over, carrying a case in one hand and an oversized bag on the other. Stopping in front of me, she looks at Hugh questioningly.

"Not here for a Pokémon. I already have one," he says tersely. He backs up and walks partway down the stairs, leaving Bianca and I alone.

She blinks. "He's an intense boy, huh? Totally like Cheren in that sense," she murmurs to no one in particular and then holds out the case, dropping the bag to the floor. "Pick a Pokémon, Rosa. Aurea spoke highly of you; she tells me you have almost as much potential as my best friend did…" she trails off, her eyes darkening a little, but then she brightens up and says, "So! Pick a Pokémon."

I open the case and see three Pokeballs sitting in the case. "What can I choose from?" I ask.

"Snivy, the Grass-type, Tepig, the Fire-type, and Oshawott, the Water-type," she says, smiling brightly, pointing to each one as she names off the species.

Ah. I picture each. Snivy is a stuck-up and serpentine; I can't picture myself with one. Plus, Hugh already has one. He'd make remarks about how we had the same Pokemon constantly. Then, I imagine Tepig. It's energetic, long-eared and hog-nosed; a Tepig would be all right. But as soon as I think of Oshawott, I know it's for me. An Oshawott is a sweet little thing with a round face and dark eyes. It might grow up into something fierce, but in the meantime, the Water-type could take some time getting adjusted to me and vice versa. "I'll take Oshawott," I say, taking the Pokeball. I tentatively press the button on the ball and release the little Pokémon.

Blinking in the sunshine, the Pokémon looks up at me. "Osh?" it asks. It must've wondered how it came to be here with some strange brunette girl.

I find myself smiling at it. "Hello, I'm Rosa!" I say, crouching to its level. I hold out a hand to it, and Oshawott pokes it tentatively with a paw.

Bianca says, "Your Oshawott happens to be a female, by the way. Would you like to nickname her?"

I'm silent as Oshawott—my cute female Oshawott—continues poking at my hand before deciding to nuzzle her face against it. Her actions surprise me. _How kind of you, _I think, and I stroke my hand along the side of her face, earning a gentle noise of happiness from her. "You're pretty sweet," I murmur, "but you evolve into some scary things. Like Samurott."

I hear Bianca laugh. She comments, "Samurott is pretty fierce-looking, I'll give it that."

"I wish you could tell me what sort of name you'd like," I say to Oshawott, who is now cuddling against my legs.

She looks up at me with dark, glossy eyes that hold a spark of life so brilliant that she inspires words instead of melodies inside my mind for once. Snippets of lyrics string themselves together in my brain, and I make sure to shove them in with the music in my brain as to not forget them. But this tells me one thing: this Oshawott is an inspiration for me. A muse…that's it! "Muse," I say sharply, startling Oshawott for a brief moment. "Do you want to be called Muse?"

Oshawott ponders on this for a moment and then gives a nod. I smile and pick her up—I have a muse named Muse, or so it seems. This excites me. Never before have I had a muse, let alone a Pokemon, and I'm not quite sure which aspect of Muse is more exciting to me. "Bianca, thank you," I say sincerely as Muse curls into my shoulder, seeking warmth.

Bianca scratches the back of her head. "Oh, don't thank me. I just delivered the Pokémon. " Then, she tosses me something, and I catch it with my free hand. "And here's your Pokedex." I look at the gray and pink device, and I stuff it into my bag. I'll play with it later, but for right now, I need to adjust to the idea that I have a Pokémon when I was concerned about how to make the piano part for the song in my head sound smoother just a few hours before.

"Hey, have you picked your Pokémon yet?" Hugh has picked an opportune time to reappear. He sees me with an Oshawott and laughs. "Arceus, Rosa, I thought you were going to pick Tepig, since it's strong against my Snivy."

"I don't care what _you _have. I like Muse, and she's the right choice for me," I say. Muse chatters something in response and butts her head under my chin. She actually seems fond of me!

Bianca walks up to Hugh, who seems to raise his eyebrows (you can't really tell under all of that dark, spiky hair) as she studies him closely. Then, she shrugs and steps back. "If we blended you and Rosa into one person, you'd be exactly like White. You, mister, are like the cool, calculating part of her, and Rosa is like the doting and reasonable part."

Hugh's jaw drops. White is the renowned Champion and Hero of Truth…or, at least, formerly the champion. The general public doesn't know this for sure, but she either gave up her post or lost to a challenger and then left Unova. Some say she's searching for something or someone—not that it's really anyone's business.

Anyway, Hugh is completely delighted at this knowledge and turns to me, pointing at Muse and me. "Well, guess what, Rosa? If we're both like Champion White, then let's who's really more like her!" he roars, grabbing his Pokeball from his belt. I wonder if he realizes how lame and jumbled he'd just sounded. Regardless, he releases his Snivy. With garnet eyes and a smug, snobby expression, he looks used to a life of luxury and glamor, even if Hugh's family doesn't really possess any of that. Hugh gives a savage grin as he adds, "I raised this Pokémon from an egg. There's no way some greenhorn like you is going to take us down."

Bianca sighs. "I'm not sure you're the best opponent for her first battle—"

Hugh cuts her off. "I'm not _that _much stronger. I hatched Snivy all of six months ago and there's no one to battle around here. I'll bet they're even at the same level," he says, and before I can protest, he calls for Snivy to use Tackle on Muse.

Snivy charges at Muse. She braces herself as I blurt, "Muse! Dodge that! Uh...you use Tackle, too!"

Muse seems to relax at the sound of a command and spins easily out of the way before ramming into Snivy. The smug-looking Pokémon doesn't look as smug as he did a few seconds prior to the attack and growls.

Hugh doesn't take the blow lightly. "Don't take her crap, Snivy. Leer!" Muse shudders under Snivy's red-eyed glare, and I can't blame her. The Grass-Type starter has mean eyes, even if he isn't so despicable outside of battle.

Instinctively, I know her other move. "Tail Whip!" I cry. Muse waggles her tail adorably at Snivy, and he stops a moment, gazing at her with gentler eyes. Without a verbal cue from me, Muse uses Tackle again and nearly floors Snivy.

Hugh is losing confidence. He doesn't like that someone who's never taken a clear interest in Pokémon is doing better than him. "Snivy, use Tackle!"

Snivy charges Muse again, but we're both prepared. As I call her to Tackle him back, she's gotten the same idea, as she charges headlong into his Tackle even as I order the attack, ramming him back. Snivy struggles to get up as Muse smirks, straightening the scalchop on her stomach. "Wott, osha," she says proudly.

"Snivy, come on! We have to be stronger than them! Tackle her, Snivy! I know you can!" Hugh cries, desperate. Snivy's eyes brighten at Hugh's encouragement and he charges at Muse again.

I smile. This odd sense of aggressiveness has risen in me, but it's cool and calculated, unlike my erratic and fluctuating musical side. "Muse. Tackle him," I say calmly. She gives me an assertive nod over her shoulder and gracefully swirls out of Snivy's path before shoving him over almost gently.

Snivy doesn't get back up this time.

Hugh stands there in total shock, gazing at his KO-ed Pokémon with hazy eyes. Shaking his head, he returns Snivy to its Pokeball. Then, he looks up at me with eyes that are clear and fierce and he says, "I really underestimated you. You're going to be a good rival, but don't think I'm going to take it easy on you ever again." He pauses, and then focuses on Bianca. "Hey. You have the Pokedex, right?"

"I guess I have a second one, if you want it. I'm sure Professor Juniper will understand if I give a devoted Trainer a Pokedex," she says, and before Hugh can answer, she tosses him a blue and black one. He catches it and stares at it for a few moments, seemingly shocked by the sudden turn of events.

Hugh nods to Bianca. "Thank you." He turns to me. "I'll be seeing you around, but I have to battle and become better than you so I can beat you next time." He shoots me a rare smile and shoots off down the steps

I smile back, feeling some warmth in my cheeks against the bitter wind as I crouch down to congratulate Muse. "That was a good battle," I praise, and she is thrilled that her new Trainer is pleased with her. She butts her head into my hands and nuzzles her nose into them.

"You're a natural!" I hear Bianca exclaim. "You should check your Trainer Card and see how much money you won from your battle."

"Trainer Card? I—" Muse moves to my side and nudges my pocket. I stick my hand into it and find a hard piece of digitized plastic in it. "What the heck?!" I yelp, drawing out the Trainer Card. On it is a full body shot of me wearing gray skinny jeans, a turquoise tank-top and my hair combed into two low pigtails, looking bored. I recognize the photograph. It's one from about two weeks ago, when my mom said she wanted a picture of me standing by her favorite tomato plant. One might ask why I didn't question why my mother would want to do that, but she is not a normal woman by anyone's standards. I'd grown used to her strange ways.

I think my mom was a little more aware of Bianca's coming than she let on. Bianca laughs at my facial expression. "Enjoy your journey. Your rival's gonna encourage you to get much better."

She starts to leave, and I have a sudden feeling. Scooping Muse into my arms, I say, "Bianca, I have to be honest. Before I saw Muse, I didn't really want to do this, and being Champion or any of that isn't my dream. I want to become a musician."

Bianca turns and gives a shrug. "Who says you can't have it all?" she says, and then trots down the stairs, humming a military march under her breath.

Muse gazes up at me, looking a little sad. She must be worried that I don't actually want her, since I'd rather be a musician. I do something strange and kiss the top of her head. "Don't worry. I think you're fabulous," I tell her, "and you're such a good little warrior. We're going to be good friends, even if you're the first Pokémon who's ever actually shown any love."

Muse bumps her nose against mine. The gesture says, _I really like you, and I'll stay with you no matter what you do. _I find myself grinning as I say, "We're going to the Pokémon Center. We'll get you healed up, and then let's leave this town, why don't we?"

If I have Muse with me, I think traveling and battling won't be so bad, even if I don't have an ounce of experience under my belt.

* * *

_A/N: Hello and welcome to "It's not exactly Soulsilvershipping, but Soulsilvershipping isn't everything...right?" *hears crickets chirping in the background* "Well, anyway, no one can write JUST Soulsilvershipping." If you aren't catching my drift, my first fic on here was It's Been A While, a Soulsilvershipping fic, but I digress. I sound like I'm self-promoting, and that's pretty lame. Plus, y'all are probably busy reading fics about the characters of Kalos (I haven't been able to get the game yet because I'm broke AND I already owe people money, darn it. TAT)  
_

_So, as a student of music and the arts, I just had to write a story with heavy musical influences. Plus, if we're going to make anyone a musician, doesn't it make sense to make Rosa a musician? The zany clothing, the wild cities in the Unova, the cool music in the games...it couldn't be ignored. I saw a vague connection, and I jumped on it._

_I've obviously taken some liberties here. After much searching for Hugh's sisters name and asking my friends for advice (the common consensus was that I call her Brunhilda and so I decided that this was a shitty thing to ask my oh-so-clever allies in the game known as life), I came up dry and decided that Hugh and Taylor sounded nice paired together, and so henceforth, the sister shall be Taylor. Plus, the Unova was a really Western region-it was based off of New York City, anyway. So, western, Americanized names for this one, if at all possible.  
_

_For the most part, this story follows the events of the game plot, but-again. I'm taking some liberties. Since Rosa is a very musical and artistic young woman, there will be a lot that happens with her that aren't part of the game, thought it won't alter the basic storyline of doing some Team Plasma ass-kicking and whatnot. _

_Unlike my first fic, IBAW, I will not be updating every couple of days. My first five priorities are: music (I had an audition for an upper-level jazz ensemble with my tenor sax three days ago, my last marching show of the season tonight, and I'm currently embroiled in some last-minute memorization for a very challenging choir concert on Monday), school (no idea how I'm keeping my GPA up this term), family/friends (social lives are hard work for antisocial musician/writers who don't have nearly enough time to be musical or literary), sleep (?), and getting caught up on various series so I don't get killed by my friends (I can't believe we have to wait another year for the next book in the Heroes of Olympus series...and Homestuck is ENDING?).  
_

_Thanks in advance for putting up with a single chapter of this for now. I might put up the second chapter (which is complete) by the end of the weekend, but I can't promise anything there, either. _

_Please review! The author thrives of the words of other human beings..._


	2. Accelerando

Disclaimer: I do not Pokemon or its characters. But if I did, I'd actually have the money to buy a 3DS and X and Y.

* * *

Rosa's POV:

It's the first time I've ever been out of town on my own as I walk along the path, Route 19, to Floccesy Town. Muse walks with me—I plan on keeping her outside her Pokeball, unlike Hugh's Snivy—and marvels at the world. She's very young and inexperienced, even more so than me, and I love the incredulous look in her eye as we pass trees and people and walk up hills.

"Guess I'm not the only greenhorn around here," I mention with a laugh.

Muse seems to laugh, too, saying, "Osh!" in a surprisingly sonorous voice for her small size.

Before I left town earlier today, I showed her to Mom proudly.

"_Wow, she's so cute!" Mom said when I darted back into the house. Muse and Audino chatted as Mom hugged me and told me that I was going to be a good little Trainer. _

_I smiled. "I beat Hugh, Mom. He's so intense about Pokémon, and I beat him."  
_

_Her eyes filled with happy tears. She glanced away and then unclasped the necklace around her neck. It was the one she'd worn ever since I could remember. The chain necklace had a disc-shaped pendant that resembled a yin-yang, but on closer inspection, it was an angular black wing and a feathery white wing divided with a jagged path of silver. Before I could ask what she was doing, she clasped it around my neck. "Mom, no," I said, but she shook her head._

"_I love you, Rosaria," she murmured, using the name my father had chosen and she rarely used. "Take this with you. Call me when you can. Treat Muse and all of the Pokémon you meet well." _

I touch my necklace. I don't wear much jewelry aside from earrings and anklets, but I honor this. It's Mom's blessing. Humming a warm, dark melody under my breath, I scoop Muse up out of the blue and embrace her. "I already feel really stupid for not wanting to travel, you know," I tell her.

_No duh, _her expression seems to say.

Out of the blue, a yowl greets us. I stop dead in my tracks as a Purrloin stands in front of us, bristling and angry. _I really don't like these Pokémon, _I think in annoyance, thinking back to Mom's Liepard, the evolution of Purrloin. They're crabby little buggers; I'll be damned if I have one on my team.

But I know Muse would enjoy the battle.

"Come on, let's get him," I say, and Muse leaps out of my arms with a loud war cry.

We battle the Purrloin. He's a dirty battler, not afraid of drawing blood, and he gives Muse a nasty cut I'll have to treat later. However, she takes him down easily (we move his unconscious form so he's not sprawled in the middle of the path), and the cut under her eye gives her a tough look. "Does that hurt you?" I ask her, crouching down.

Muse shakes her head, wiping blood way from her face. "Wott!" she exclaims. However, I notice she's a bit shaky, so I spray her with a Potion I bought in town. The light brightens in her eyes and fades the cut into a pale crescent. It gives her sweet face a tougher look.

We continue down the path, fighting a few more snarky Purrloins and a few Patrats as well, and as the sun begins to set, I notice the tall cliff face about forty feet in front of us. Silhouetted against the summer sun is the figure of a man with spiky hair pulled into a ponytail. _Who's that? _I wonder. Something about the silhouette seems old and impressive…legendary, even.

As we near it, this silhouetted figure turns toward us. "Hey, you!" calls a deep voice. I look up and watch as the man throws himself from the cliff. I stifle a scream, thinking the man will die from the fall, but he lands lightly and without apparent harm. In the shade of the cliff, I can see him a little better. His hair is orange and tongued like a bright flame and puts Hugh's messy black spikes to shame. Oddly enough, his clothes look nomadic and rough, and he wears a necklace of Pokeballs. He looks older, maybe in his late fifties or early sixties, but as spry as a high school track star at that.

I give a sigh of relief. "Thank Arceus you're okay…" I pause as the man walks closer to me and then makes a slow circle around me, observing me with dark, hard eyes. "Um, excuse me?" I demand, unnerved. Muse seems unafraid of the man—either she trusts him or is too inexperienced to realize that I feel threatened.

He comes back in front of me and holds out his hand. His eyes immediately thaw as he greets, "Hey there, greenhorn. I'm Alder."

The name is one I'm very familiar with. I stare at him. "You….you were Champion. Before White. My mom talked about you a lot when I was younger; she was always a big fan of yours," I say, shaking his hand. It's large and calloused, the hand of a worker. Mom and Hugh are going to be unbelievably jealous when I tell them who I just met!

Alder gives a wry smile and chuckles. Suddenly serious, he points to me. "Who are you?"

I reply, "I'm Rosa…just a newbie Trainer. And this is Muse," I add, gesturing to my scar-faced Starter. She waves her scalchop enthusiastically at Alder.

He nods with some impatience. "You could both do with some training," he says, and points behind him. "Follow me." Alder then races away, charging off in sandals hardly suited for running.

I don't know whether to be indignant or amused by Alder, who seems as mysterious and scatter-brained as Mom's Liepard was. Scooping a huffy Muse into my arms, I cry, "Wait up!" and sprint off after the former Champion.

* * *

I arrive in Floccesy Town. It's a rural place, smaller and less populated than Aspertia City. The buildings are old and made of stone; the people seem to be of a similar nature, even the people going about their business who are my age or younger. They give me, in my outlandishly modern clothing, strange looks as I pass. Those who are obviously trainers give Muse envious looks, but otherwise, I doubt they'd be willing to talk to me.

I approach the Pokémon Center and decide to heal Muse when I hear Alder's voice again.

"Ah, good! Healing your Pokémon is always important," Alder says, trotting up from out of nowhere. "When you're done with that, follow the road through town. My home is the building near the warehouses." He darts off again, leaving me wonder if the man is perpetually overdosing himself with caffeine or not.

I sigh. "Come on, Muse, let's heal you up."

We go into the Pokémon Center. Much to my dismay I immediately recognize the attendant here. She isn't one of the nurses named Joy that are notorious and/or famous outside of Unova, but she is also my aunt Katrina.

Or, should I say, Dad's sister. The woman who introduced my parents to one another, essentially setting up a relationship that would eventually fail.

She doesn't seem to recognize me. We haven't seen each other or spoken since I was nine years old, and back then, I had a boy's haircut and often wore castoffs from my neighbor's sons in Accumula Town.

Katrina greets me and takes Muse, who is in her Pokeball. She looks nothing like Dad. Her hair is strawberry blonde and short, twisted into stubby braids, and her eyes are a very soft, gentle green. There's no confusion or recognition in her eyes as she sees me, and I think I'd like to keep it that way. Seeing any relatives of the man who tore my family apart is painful enough.

"Have a nice day," my aunt says, handing me Muse's Pokeball.

I release Muse. The scar under her eye is still there, and after patting around under her eyes, Muse seems relieved that it is. That's what I get for choosing a Pokémon reputable for an honorable samurai attitude, I suppose. They love their battle scars. "You have a good one too, Katrina," I say, and I want to kick myself. I'm supposed to be a stranger! How could a stranger know her name?

Katrina blinks. "You…you're really familiar."

"I just have that kind of face," I say and try to scurry out of the Pokémon Center, but then what she says next makes me freeze where I'm standing.

"Stop! You're my niece!" Before I can try and deny that, she leaps over the counter, ignoring the strange stares from the people sitting in the lobby, and embraces me. "Oh, Rosaria, you have your father's gray-blue eyes. I can't believe I didn't recognize them. I guess all of that long hair threw me off."

I resist the urge to squirm. Muse stands a few feet away, looking confused by my reaction to Katrina's affection. "Please call me Rosa," I say, hoping I'm not making a repulsed face. "I'm just Rosa, not Rosaria."

She lets me go and places her hands on my shoulders. I stand at least three inches taller than she does, even though I'm average height for a girl; Dad and his siblings were never particularly famous for being tall, I guess. She looks me up and down and says, "You look like your mother more than my brother, but I think you're prettier than she was at your age. And your eyes aren't as intense as Jonathan's were," she says.

Something clicks. _Jonathan. _Dad. Mom never called him Jonathan. I actually had no idea that his name was Jonathan until now. When they were still together and he wasn't being a total idiot, she'd always called him Jay, never Jonathan or Jon. I guess it was really just J, like the letter, because there's no good reason to shorten a name like Jonathan to Jay. "That's one thing to be thankful for," I say, looking anywhere but at Katrina. Even if she doesn't look much like Dad, she certainly reminds me of him. And I'm not appreciative of the fact.

Katrina smiles and looks down at Muse. "I thought your mom said you didn't want to become a Trainer, last time I talked to her. Has that changed?" she asks.

I shrug. "Sort of. I just was given a Pokedex and Muse today, and now I have to train her and fill in a Pokedex, I guess. She's my only Pokémon right now, but I really like her." Muse beams at me, proud that she's pleased her Trainer.

"Well, it's only natural. Your parents were incredible. Before your mom's Emboar passed away from that awful outbreak of fire virus and before your father released his Lucario, those two had the strongest teams I'd ever seen," she says proudly.

Her words are a physical blow to me. I hadn't thought about Dad's Lucario in years. He was a good friend of mine; actually, he was probably my best friend, back when were lived in Accumula Town. I wasn't fond of many of my Mom's Pokémon—especially her stupid Liepard, who took it upon herself to make me feel uncomfortable in my own home whenever Mom wasn't watching—as five of her six Pokémon were large and frightening at the time. Dad, on the other hand, had less frightening Pokémon. His Reuniclus rocked me to sleep when I was a baby, and his Swanna kept an eye on me from the sky when I was old enough to play outside. He had others, all special in some ways, but I had a particular favorite…and that was Lucario. Dad's Lucario was only a few inches taller than me when I saw him for the last time and always kind. He had a very firm grasp of human language and very chivalrously put up with my endless questions about life, Pokémon, and his taste for classical music. He really loved the cello and inspired my love of the piano. When I could finally play a tune on the piano, Lucario had been so proud.

Dad released him, along with all of his Pokémon aside from his Watchog, and that's when I knew he wasn't the man who'd taught me love and compassion, along with care for the Pokémon I lived with.

"I haven't thought about Lucario in a really long time," I murmur, and Katrina winces at the obvious pain on my face.

She ruffles my bangs as Muse rubs against my leg, mewling at me. "Sorry to bring him up. I'm still pissed at my brother for doing that," she murmurs. Then, she gives me a curious look. "Where are you headed, Rosa?"

"I ran into Alder. He senses that I'm a newbie and he wants me to go train with him," I say. "Is there a smell newbies have or something? Because everyone always seems to know if you haven't been a Trainer for long."

She nods, and she doesn't answer my question. "That's good. He has a number of students, and they all learn a lot from him. You should be going, then." After an exchange of goodbyes, I leave with Muse, and we start down the road toward Alder's house.

It isn't a very long walk. The setting sun has sunken lower since my exchange with Katrina. My old pain for Lucario stabs at me, and Muse can sense it. She sits on my shoulder and presses her nose to my face. "Sha, wott, osha," she says quietly. I wish I spoke her language or that she was like Lucario and could communicate in mine.

I turn my face to the side and kiss her head. "Hey, don't worry about me. I've had eight years to deal with losing my friend, okay?" I reassure her. "Besides, he isn't dead. He's probably either living as free as a Pidove or has a better Trainer. He wouldn't let himself get captured by a bad person." The last statement is more to reassure myself.

Towards the end of town, we see a small house, near large metal sheds. There's a dirt arena outside of the house, and I know immediately that this is Alder's home. Who else in this old-school establishment would have that outside of their house? I'm not able to even start toward his home when he walks out. "Rosa!" he booms, as if I'm an old friend, and strides forward with purpose. Stopping a few feet from me, he stares intently at my bag. "Why are you carrying two Town Maps?"

_Who else has shoved random things into my belongings?! _I think, feeling a little nervous, as I drag out two Town Maps from my bag. There's a note attached to one. It's written in the handwriting of Hugh's mother:

_Rosa,_

_You're going on a journey, and you're more likely to see Hugh next before I do. He left before I could give him this Town Map. Please deliver it to him for me._

_I told your mother to give it to you so that you could find Hugh and give it to him, and hopefully you aren't discovering this in your bag randomly, and you know exactly why you have this._

_Thank you!_

I stare at the note, fuming a little. Why isn't Mom like a normal person who just hands things to people instead of shoving them into pockets and bags? "Well, it appears that I'm supposed to deliver this to my friend, Hugh."

Alder claps his hands. "A young man with dark hair and intense red eyes came by here earlier. His name was Hugh. He headed off to Floccesy Ranch to train only thirty minutes ago or so, actually."

Sighing, I shoulder my bag. "That's the Hugh I'm talking about. I should go find him, then. His mother would freak out if he doesn't have this as soon as possible."

"Come back here whenever it's safe to. If it's really late, stay the night with the owners of the ranch. They have sleeping quarters. Plus, it's a great place to train," he calls after I bid him goodbye and head east.

I thank him for the idea, and Muse and I walk off into the darkening evening.

* * *

I have my first battles with Trainers other than Hugh on the way to Floccesy Ranch. Partnered with my little warrior Pokémon, I sweep the floor with the Patrats and Purrloins that the younger Trainers use. Checking my Trainer card, I realize I haven't earned much money from them. They are clearly young or novice Trainers, so I figure they don't have a lot of money to give. We also battle some wild Pokémon. Muse looks stronger and more certain, and by the time we reach the outer limits of Floccesy Ranch, I use my Pokedex's stat function to check her level. It's doubled since when I first obtained her at level 5, and she knows some new moves, too.

We pass through the entrance to the ranch nearly an hour and a half after we leave Floccesy Town because of all of the battling. "Osha," Oshawott murmurs incredulously, staring at the huge barn in the near distance. I've never been in a place so distinctly rural, and I must reek of city girl as I gawk at the fluffy Mareep roaming around, the barn situated in the midst of the gently rolling terrain, and the long stretches of wooden fence.

I get it out of my system and start towards the barn. Before I can even begin to think about where Hugh might be, I hear his voice. "Hey, Rosa! You got here fast!" A confident-looking Hugh trots over, dodging a pair of sleeping Mareep as he goes. "How about a battle to see who's trained their Pokémon better since leaving town?"

I smile. "Wouldn't dream of denying you a battle."

In exactly six minutes and forty-three seconds—or should I say, in the time it takes to run through the melody of my favorite movement of a nineteenth-century piano concerto—I defeat Hugh. Or, should I say, Muse whacks the snot out of Snivy with her newly-learned Water Gun and a few ferocious Tackles. She's a little demon on the battlefield, and I suppose I've become something of a strategist in the time we've worked together…though I'm fairly certain she doesn't need a lot of guidance from myself.

Hugh recalls his Snivy and shakes his head. "I never thought you'd be this good of a Trainer."

"It's probably beginner's luck," I say modestly, even though I feel like gloating and boasting about Muse. I feel lucky to have met her just earlier today. However, before I forget, I reach into my bag and toss Hugh his Town Map. "Your mom wanted me to get this to you, by the way. You left town so quickly that she didn't have a chance to get it to you," I say, a mockingly reproachful note in my voice.

Hugh kicks at the ground casually as he looks at it. "Huh. This thing's nice. I'm going to have to call my mom and thank her. I kind of did run out of there like a Woobat out of hell…"

"That was some battle you had!" calls a new voice, twangy and very much feminine. I look up to spot a pair of people who are obviously ranchers. I sense that they're probably at least ten years older than my mom, but I can't really judge by how much. Living around my mom has made me leery of assigning numbers to age. The woman, with curly hair and an air of modest grace, looks at us, obviously impressed by the battle we just had. Sensing the way the man moves around her, he's the woman's husband. This man is tall, thin, and dark-haired, kind of like a lanky Hugh sans the spikiness of his hair and the dark garnet of his eyes. Trotting with them is a pair of Herdiers, scruffy-faced and loyal to their Trainers.

Hugh looks at the Pokémon with cool eyes. Then, they roam up to look at the ranchers. He must've taken the woman's comment as an insult, which I know she didn't say to insult him, and crosses his arms. "Thanks," he says, his voice frigid.

The woman notices his tone but smiles anyway. With a note of gentleness in her voice, she chides, "Losing doesn't mean you're a bad Trainer. You're very good yourself. The young lady and her Oshawott are cut from similar stuff and understand each other."

Hugh glances at me. "You really didn't have to give many directions in our battle, did you?"

I shrug. My adrenaline rush from our battle has fogged my memory, but there's truth in what he says. Muse has good instincts without receiving commands; I know the few I gave assisted her battling, but they were far and few between. Something tells me that not all Pokémon are like this, and as I start to catch more Pokémon later on, there's a very good chance that some will need their every move plotted out for them.

The man smiles at us. "Well, we heard the commotion and came out to check what was going on. We figured if you two were out this late and battling this hard, you hadn't had dinner yet. I can't believe you didn't wake up some of the Mareep," he adds, laughing at the sight of the two Mareep zonked out.

I blink. Does this man want two strange kids from out-of-town inside of his home? "Are you inviting us to dinner?" I ask.

"We run something of a bed and breakfast nearby. There are two or three others who'd be joining us who don't necessarily live with us," his wife reassures me, her tone encouraging. "They're all Trainers, too."

My stomach giving a well-timed rumble, I decide that, alongside what Alder told me about Floccesy Ranch, it's a safe idea. "I'd be happy to join you, thanks." I turn to Hugh. "Well, what about you?"

He looks a bit resigned, but he nods. Quietly, he says, "I think it'd be a bad idea to train on an empty stomach." I try to thank him for being polite with my eyes, but he doesn't meet them. He's trying to process that I'm a natural who got lucky and chose a really smart, battle-savvy Pokémon as my Starter. It might take him some time to get used to it. For a moment I feel bad that I've done this to him, but why should I? He's the one who's inhibited himself by refusing to leave Aspertia City without first having a rival.

We follow the ranchers back toward their house, and I'm enticed by the thought of food.

* * *

Hugh's POV:

Rosa has now kicked my ass twice in one day. She's only been a Trainer for one day. You do the math.

She's either a natural, or I'm just really bad.

We're in the house of the two ranchers, eating dinner at a long table. Much to Rosa's chagrin, they have a "No Pokémon at the table rule". Muse was extremely pissed off to go back into her Pokeball before dinner. She's a funny little thing, not at all reserved and pompous like my lazy ass egomaniac of a Grass-type starter.

Anyway, the food's awesome. They gave us a plateful of mashed potatoes with some different kinds of herb in it, some kind of steak—it's good enough that I'd bet it's Bouffalant meat—and a crapload of bread and vegetables. Rosa isn't eating the steak, but she's a vegetarian. She has been ever since I met her, back when she barely spoke a word to anyone. The ranchers, along with the two other Trainers at the table, are giving her a hard time about it. They're all joking, and I'm not really in the mood for talking.

So I listen in as everyone talks back and forth to each other.

Rosa is talking to one of the other Trainers, a boy about our age with a gray baseball cap shoved down over curly blonde hair, about a local country music band. He clearly loves the group, and I can tell Rosa is trying not to insult the genre of music. _Country music is just a bunch of people praising Arceus and our region and whining about missing someone they never deserved to be dating in the first place, _I hear Rosa grumbling in one of our first conversations after she finally started talking to people. The thought makes me smile a little, even though my mood isn't great.

The two Ranchers are talking with the other Trainer, who looks enough like the boy to probably be a sister or a cousin, about the Mareep outside. The girl is dead-set on catching one, but she's having trouble even battling one with her Woobat. One of the ranchers promises to lend her their Herdier tomorrow so that she can catch one.

I didn't know a human could squeal that loudly over an electric ball of fluff on stubby legs.

I finish my food before everyone else and check the clock. _Is it seriously nine o'clock already? They eat late around here. _I think. My mother would yell at me if I started back into town at this time of night. It took me at least two hours to get here when it was light out, anyway.

When the conversation dies down as people really dig into their food, I ask, "Do you have anywhere to stay for the night?" I silently add, _Rosa and my mother would both try and strangle me for travelling this late._

"Oh, good. We were hoping you wouldn't try and go back into town at this time of night. It's not safe," says the female rancher. Her face is really lined and leathery from working out in the sun, but she probably used to be pretty. "There've been some odd folks around lately and we don't like kids travelling on their own with them around."

Rosa swallows a mouthful of potatoes and murmurs, "I'd like to stay here for the night, too. If Hugh's not going back to town tonight, I'm not comfortable going back to town on my own."

_She'd feel safer with me? _I think, a little rattled at the thought.

So, after dinner, we find ourselves getting towed along by the female rancher. We exit their house and find ourselves near a trio of guesthouses. "You two can stay in the one on the left," she says, pointing at the one. It's a squat little thing that's probably only about half the size of the apartment I live in with my mother and Taylor. Rosa thanks her and enters the house. Before I can follow her, the rancher grabs my arm.

"Behave yourself with the young lady now. I don't take well to kids getting up to funny business in my guesthouses," the rancher says, her eyes filled with fierce warning. Before I can even feel embarrassed and tell her Rosa and I aren't in love or that we're not going to get up to "funny business" in her guesthouse, she disappears. Standing in the dark for a moment, I pound the heel of my hand against my forehead. Yes, Rosa is incredibly pretty (which my male friends often reminded me), but I'm not exactly plotting to get into her pants or anything.

I go in after a bit, and Rosa's sitting on one of the beds. The guesthouse is basically an overlarge bedroom with a tiny refrigerator, counter and bathroom attached. Plus, I see a microwave in the corner.

"Alder told me about this earlier. I wouldn't have come out here so late if I'd realized how long it took to get here and get back," Rosa says. Her voice, usually just a little raspy and the good kind of low, is the epitome of exhaustion. It's then that I notice her hair is down, falling down her back and gathering a little on the bed behind her due to its length, and she's just wearing her leggings and her pink cami. I've always known she was really pretty and had a nice figure in the back of my mind, but damn. This was a total blow to the head. She'd slept over at my house a few times since we became friends, but she always wore baggy pajamas or something that left more to the imagination.

I look away from her and take off my jacket. The guesthouse is warm in comparison to the chilly night outside. "I guess Alder's a really knowledgeable guy," I retort, "seeing as he told me to come here and either train or catch a Pokémon. Not big on the Mareep, though, no offense to him."

Rosa makes a noise at the back of her throat and slides under the covers. She replies, "He was Champion once. Of course he's smart." Then, for some reason, she adds, "Sorry I ruined your day by beating you twice."

I almost laugh at what she says, but I'm not in the mood to laugh. Crawling under the covers of my bed, I admit, "That kind of sucked, but hey. I deserved that. I insulted your dreams about a music career." Karma had to get me at some point, and I guess better sooner than later.

Rosa laughs and rolls over to meet my eyes. She seems less guarded and worried when she's really tired. In the low lamplight, her eyes look dark, almost black, even though they're really a pale shade of bluish gray. "It's okay. I always thought that your Pokémon training dreams were kind of stupid, too. I love Muse. I really regret not caring about this kind of lifestyle already." She reaches out from under the covers and releases Muse from her Pokeball. Her starter is sleepy and immediately cuddles in beside her. Even though her Pokémon is falling asleep in her arms, Rosa seems sad. "Those ranchers are really nice, but their rules about Pokémon are annoying. Pokémon are good friends. You treat them with all of the respect you'd treat a person. At home, Mom's Audino had full run of the house and yard. Here, they're treated like…I don't know…like something less than a friend. But that bothers me. Like you wouldn't abandon a friend, so why would you abandon a Pokémon? You wouldn't take someone else's friend away without good reason, so why would you steal someone else's Pokémon?" Obviously there's something in her past that's bothering her, and it throws itself full-force into her voice.

"Yeah…" I'm wary. Rosa's hitting a little too close to home here, making me feel helpless like I did five years ago.

She closes her eyes and gropes for the light switch on the lamp nearby. "Goodnight, Hugh. See you tomorrow." We're submerged in the darkness once her fingers find the switch. I'm not at all tired, but I suppose Rosa's day has been pretty tiring. Between her steady breathing and her Oshawott's light snores, though, I find myself getting lulled into a sense of tiredness.

I finally murmur, "'Night, Rosa," and turn over on my side to fall asleep.

* * *

_A/N: Hello and welcome to "Well I should've been working on an essay for my political science class, but that's pretty weak. So here's the very seriously edited second chapter of Sonata in Gray for my already beloved readers." Okay, anyway, so if you aren't required to take a political science class at your school, bake your administrators the best cookies you can manage because, damn, you are one lucky individual. If you don't even know what the hell political science is, then congrats. Your life will be at least 15% happier._

_Anyway..._

_I've gotten a few messages (and comments in a review) concerning Hugh's sister's name. I'm just going to take a moment and let y'all know that we, as a fandom, are absolutely lost on the name of this child. You all have very different views on what this name is, and I had an off-topic discussion with my friend via phone call about it-it was a nice interlude in our serious conversation. Regardless, we've decided that Gamefreak should've given this child an official name in the gameverse. Because if she had a name, I would remember that name. _

_Another issue I've encountered in writing this is that I don't want to scare people with musical jargon. When Rosa is thinking about music and doing things with music, I have to tone down all of my music theory knowledge. Many people don't know what a fermata or a diphthong are (or even basic things in music education like time signatures and the reading of sheet music), and I don't want to alienate my readers who are not musically inclined. The anatomy of music isn't for everyone, and I don't want to confuse my readers with Rosa's knowledge._

_My next update is going to be delayed. I had to do some serious overhauling on the third chapter and I'm back down to 2500 words again, which isn't enough for me to publish. On this fic, I'm aiming for somewhere between 4000 and 6000 word chapters. Plus, I have two concerts, a major rehearsal and two tests coming up in the next five days. Hopefully, come next weekend, I'll be able to sit down and do a major writing session and churn out that next chapter. _

_Please keep reading and reviewing! I appreciate that greatly with this fic!_


	3. Fermata

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or its characters. But if I did, I probably would've made Espurr more cutesy and less...stoned-looking. Like what is up with that Pokemon? Did it inhale a quarter pound of catnip?

* * *

Hugh's POV:

"Hey, sleepyhead, wake up," Rosa's voice says, and I'm dragged from sleep. Groggily blinking away my sleepiness, I lift my head to find Rosa sitting at the edge of my bed. She's dressed like she usually is; she's swapped her leggings and weird ruffled shorts for worn jeans and her half-done buns for a single bun at the nape of her neck. She's wearing the same shirt as yesterday, though. Looking disinterested and annoyed by my presence, her Oshawott—Muse, I should say—is sitting on her lap.

I blink for a moment, remembering that she's a Trainer now, too. I sit up, rubbing my eyes, and I mutter, "Yeah. I'm awake. Hi."

She hops off the bed as Oshawott clambers off of her lap. Stretching, Rosa yawns loudly. Her shirt hitches, and I see the pale skin on her lower back that hasn't been touched by the sun. "I slept well. So did Muse," she says, and then asks, "Did you sleep well?"

"I guess so," I respond, sliding out of bed. "When are you headed out?"

"I'm going to explore the ranch soon and train, actually. Maybe catch a Pokémon. Then I'll go back into town during the afternoon to go train with Alder." She flips her ponytail over one shoulder and starts toward the door, apparently ready to leave this soon.

I sigh. "Rosa, why'd you wake me up if you were just going to leave?"

Scooping Muse into her arms, she thoughtfully replies, "I didn't want you to wake up and feel like I'd completely disregarded you." She leaves the guesthouse after saying this, the door clattering shut behind her.

I sigh and fall back onto my bed, sighing with some frustration. _She thinks I'm upset with her for being a natural at Pokémon training. I doubt I'd even have started training at all if it weren't for what happened to my sister, _I think, sighing sadly.

I quit sulking and get dressed. What is sulking going to do for me?

I exit the guesthouse, backpack and jacket slung over my shoulder. Whenever I get to the next large city, I need to invest in a change of clothes, or these ones will begin to smell ripe quickly. Heading to the main building, I dodge hoards of Mareep that mill about, calling to each other in soft voices. They're such inane little Pokémon, but I guess they're pretty cute.

Pushing open the back door of the main house, I hear the swell of piano music and laughter. _This early? _I think tetchily as I retrace my path from the night before to find the kitchen. Who could be laughing or playing music so early?

I cross through the old, too-warm kitchen and into a side room. An aged upright piano sits in the corner, with Rosa at the bench pounding out some complex, folksy melody. This piano sounds a little out-of-tune, but it gives the song even more character. The two ranchers and the Mareep girl from yesterday, plus a tiny Mareep that snoozes quietly at her feet, are laughing and chatting with Rosa as she plays. Muse sits beside her on the piano bench, swinging back and forth to the melody.

"…and, girly, you never would've guessed it, but I used to play that thing every night before I crushed my left hand in the accident," says the rancher, sitting in a rocking chair close to the dilapidated piano.

Rosa grimaces as she plays some complicated riff with her left hand, but it isn't about the piano playing. That's something that's completely second nature to her. Unless she is attempting to do something difficult for the first time, there isn't a damned thing in this world that can throw off her piano playing. I can't even begin to count the number of times I'd go over to her house and end up having a completely unrelated conversation with her while she played anything from intense classical pieces to little pop ballads. Presently, Rosa says, "I can't imagine losing that. May I ask what happened?"

"Back in the day, we had Bouffalant on this ranch, and I was herding them with my pair of Herdier when, one day, I tripped over my own feet and got my hand crushed by a Bouffalant I spooked by falling over. Doesn't matter, though, 'bout the piano playing. I was never as good as you, kid," he responds, shrugging. I notice that only one of the Herdiers sits at the feet of the ranchers. Where is the other one?

Suddenly, Rosa realizes I've appeared and cranes her neck to look at me. "Hugh!" she exclaims, smiling. Her fingers dance over the keys as though she isn't distracted by my presence. "Glad you're out of bed!"

"It's so early. Why are you all up?" I ask, rubbing at my eyes.

"I was about to start scrambling some eggs, but suddenly I hear Rosa riffing away on the piano out here and we had to come listen," says the rancher.

The Mareep girl scoops up her new Mareep and turns to Rosa. "Yeah, you're really good. Do you play anything else?"

"Bass and drums. I also do vocals," Rosa retorts. Focusing her attentions on the piano for a moment, she slows her playing down dramatically, falling into a slow, syncopated ballad that resonates in my gut strangely. A silence falls among everyone in the room as the music swells and crashes.

"Are you good at the others?" Mareep girl asks tactlessly.

Shrugging, Rosa simply responds, "Depends on what you're into."

"She doesn't do country," I say flatly, earning a startled glance from the girl. "So don't ask."

Mareep girl grumbles, "Well, I don't like country! That's my stupid cousin that does! Can you sing us something?" she asks Rosa, her eyes bright with anticipation. "I wanna hear what you can do."

Rosa gives a slight shrug and transitions into a fiery-sounding piano accompaniment with a bouncy beat to it with plenty of low notes spiking through it. I recognize this aggressive, upbeat jazz piece vaguely, but I'm not sure from where. Before I have a chance to think about it, Rosa opens her mouth and there's no more thought. In the two years I've known her, it's my first time hearing her singing voice, and it's absolutely jaw-dropping. It takes me a few moments to focus on the words of the warm melody:

"_Sweet thing_

_That ain't my name_

_I ain't some game_

_Don't ya know?_

_Heartbreak king_

_You're such a tease_

_Smoke in the breeze_

_Oh don't ya know?"_

Her fingers dart up the piano keys, the accompaniment becoming so complex that I don't know how she can sing in that dark, low, caramel-toned sort of voice and play piano so powerfully at the same time. She enters what I think is the chorus, swaying in time to the pulse.

"_I was just a lonely little girl_

_Trapped in a toxic world_

_And you whispered me a promise_

_And then so quickly forgot us_

_Don't call me sweet thing_

_When you never ring…"_

Without entering another verse, she coaxes a wild, energetic ending bit from the piano and quickly turns around. "Well?"

"Didn't know you could do that," I mutter to myself, wondering where the hell that astonishingly rich and powerful voice came from in that skinny body.

The rancher's wife whoops loudly, clapping her hands quickly before pressing her palms to her cheeks. "My, my, but aren't you just a talented young lady?" she breathed, gazing at Rosa with wide, adoring eyes. "I don't know anyone who can do Athena Frank songs as well as you just did! I'm not sure she did her own songs as well as you just did."

Ah. Athena Frank. She was a famous Unovan blues singer who died a year and a half ago or so from old age, and she was known for singing complex laments about lovers who had scorned her.

Rosa blushes, smiling shyly as she replied, "Ms. Frank would've taken some offense to that."

"If you hadn't noticed, she took offense to a lot of things, sweetheart," says the rancher, scoffing lightly.

Still shell-shocked by Rosa's voice, I almost remain rooted to the spot even as everyone else decides to go eat breakfast. Rosa, too, is still sitting at the piano. Turning around to face me, she smirks. "So, Hughie," she says, using my aggravating nickname obviously in an attempt to be condescending, "was I singing for my mom just now?"

"How many things do you want to prove me wrong on?" I ask with a heavy sigh.

With a smile that told me absolutely nothing, she gets up from the piano stool and slid it in. "Breakfast time," she comments lithely, "wouldn't want to miss out on some eggs and bacon, no?" She walks out of the room, leaving me to feel relatively stupid and to internally curse myself for not telling her how beautiful her voice is.

I enter the kitchen, where the ranchers, Mareep girl, and Rosa sit at the table, eating. Rosa, as a vegetarian, doesn't have a lot on her plate—the eggs, bacon, and sausage links that everyone else is eating don't appeal to her. She has a single piece of toast slathered in a weird orange jelly. Oddly, Herdier, with Mareep girl's newly obtained Mareep, stands at the door, looking uneasy. Where is that other Herdier? I sit down next to Rosa and load my plate with food. An excellent cook, my mother had made me jaded with food, but this breakfast put anything she ever made to shame.

The rancher, with a mouth filled with bacon, glances over at me. "Did you sleep well, son?" he asks.

"Not too bad," I respond. It had been my first night away from home in years, and I hadn't lost even a wink of sleep over it. My mother would've been offended to hear it.

"So…I'm curious here. You two are friends, right?" he questions, gesturing to Rosa and me with his fork.

I nod. "Yeah. We're both from Aspertia."

"That's a big town.," he comments, eyebrows raised. I want to comment that Aspertia City is absolutely _nothing _in comparison to some metropolis like Castelia City, but I don't have the heart to. Then, he asks, "How long have y'all known each other?"

"Two years," Rosa answers, glancing over at me. The glance says _Hugh, I swear to Arceus that if you elaborate on that, I'll curb-stomp you in a Pokémon battle again. _"I moved there was I was fourteen with my mom."

"You sound eastern," the rancher's wife interjects, eyebrows raised. Rosa does tend to speak in clipped, precise tones—an Eastern Unova thing. It isn't nearly as pronounced as the ranchers are making it out to be, but I doubt that many exciting things happen out here. They might as well make a big deal over her accent.

The rancher nods sagely. "Yes, like our son's fiancée. She's from Striaton City and sounds a lot like you."

"I lived in Accumula Town for a while," is all Rosa offers up, nibbling at her toast.

"I caught my Herdier 'round that town a few years back," the rancher says. Glancing at the door, he frowns. "Hey. Wait a second. Where is that little rascal?"

Mareep girl, who had been busy wolfing down sausage links, says, "I heard him barking this morning and looked out my window. He was running out toward the forest on your property, but I thought he was maybe going after some Mareep that ran off." Then, she sighs loudly, poking at a sausage link on her plate. "But I'm guessing he'd be back by now?"

The rancher's face contorts with worry. "Aw, hell," he mutters. Meanwhile, he dabs at his forehead with a napkin from the table. Suddenly, he turns to Rosa and me. "You two are pretty capable. I'm gonna ask you two to go look for him for me; I can't run around like I used to."

Rosa raises her eyebrows. She quietly says, "We don't know your property or your Herdier. As much as we'd love to help," she pauses to shoot me a look that tells me not to contradict her, "we wouldn't be of much help at all, I think."

"Our property isn't that big, and he wouldn't have left it," the rancher insists, gazing at us with pleading eyes.

I look at Rosa for a second before deciding to help this man, because I understand the panic of losing a Pokémon and not being able to do anything to get him back. "We'll do it. I mean, your Pokémon might be gone forever. Come on, Rosa," I command, earning a rather startled look from her.

She rises from her chair, leaving half of her piece of toast uneaten. As she follows me out the door, she calls for Muse to follow her. Darting out of the living room, her Pokémon follows her with a bright sense of duty written all over her features—why isn't my Snivy as active as Muse? When we step outside, Rosa turns to me, looking surprised. The morning breeze stirs her hair, but she is otherwise motionless. "I guess I didn't expect you to do that," she admits, pushing her bangs out of her face for a moment.

"It's not cool, not knowing where your Pokémon are," I say, crossing my arms. Glancing down at Muse, I decide to release my Snivy. He looks at Muse with obvious disinterest. I don't know the last time he looked interested in something.

Rosa greets Snivy, who merely nods in acknowledgement to her presence, and then asks, "So…should I check out the pastures? I mean, she said he ran toward the forest, but he could still be anywhere out here."

"Do a quick check," I decide aloud. All of our bases need to be covered, after all. "I'll go to the forest. Come find me if you don't have any luck. I have a feeling it'll take longer to check the forest than the pastures."

She gives a nod. "Fair enough. Come on, Muse. Let's go find that Herdier," she says, giving her Pokémon a bright smile. It's easy to see she already loves that little Pokémon, but it would be hard not to.

I gaze down at Snivy. I order, "We're going to look for Herdier. Try not to be as disinterested as usual." With that said, I jog toward the forest, with Snivy on my heels.

* * *

Rosa's POV:

"Herdier!" I call, my voice resounding across the pastures. "You out here, boy?"

The only response is the soft bleating of Mareep. I notice some Pidove, Patrat, and Lillipup interspersed among the Mareep further out in the pasture. Glancing at Muse, who seems to be conversing with a wild Patrat, I say, "Hey, you. We're looking for Herdier, not having social hour."

She kicks at the grass, looking mildly embarrassed, and mutters, "Osh, wott, osha."

"I'm not mad, Muse. It's just…the ranchers and Hugh seem really worried," I say. There's something that seems very unsettling about a worried Hugh. He isn't exactly blasé, but not a lot worries him. As a student, Hugh never studied or worried about his grades. When we hang out, he isn't bothered by the idea of accidentally staying out too late…but today, this business with Herdier is obviously scaring him.

What happened in his past?

With Muse at my side, I navigate the rest of the pastures. The morning breeze is a little chilly, and I sense that up here, on what is essentially a plateau in otherwise hilly region, there isn't really a wind block—aside from the glorified clump of trees they call a forest. I hum the bass line from a favorite Baroque piece as we walk. It's almost like a nervous habit, humming classical music, but I'm unsettled. I know that Muse can tell, as she attempts to catch the bass line and hum it, too, as if to help calm her Trainer. Chuckling, I crouch and pat her head. "I'm so happy that, even if we've hardly been together for twenty-four hours, that you're willing to put up with the weird musical part of me."

"Wott!" Muse retorts, as if to say, _Quit insulting yourself, Rosa!_

I scratch at her cheek affectionately and scoop her into my arms. "I just want to know something. How is it that you're so sweet and then you're so ruthless in a battle?"

She makes a weird chortling noise, and I know she will not reveal her secrets to me. Fair enough—I don't suppose I want to know where she draws her violence from.

The sun is higher in the sky and warmer when we near the forest. The trees here are young and grow close together; it's going to be a very ugly and twisted forest if these trees continue growing like this. It breeds an unnerving atmosphere. "Osh, osha," Oshawott whispers, acting as unnerved as I feel.

"It's all right," I say as I near the forest. "We'll find Hugh, Snivy, and that Herdier, and then we'll get out of here and go train with Alder, too." My words are almost more of a comfort to myself as a chilly weight seems to sink further and further into my stomach.

We enter the forest. Unexpectedly, the soft bleating and quiet woofs of Lillipup suddenly seem to be on an extended fermata, and not a fermata that extended a long, sinuous note—it was the sort that hung in a rest or a pause and seemed to extend for far longer than it had the right to.

"Hugh!" I call, startling some Pidove roosting in the trees. A few swoop at me, but Muse blasts them away with plugs of her Water Gun attack. "You in here?"

No more than five seconds later, I hear him faintly respond, "Yeah! Any luck?"

I presume that he hasn't found Herdier. Puffing out a sigh, I set Muse on my shoulder to retort, "Not a trace. How about you?"

"Uh…I got shocked by a Mareep. And attacked by some other Pokémon. That's about as much success I've had," he shouts back. "Come in a little further and help me out."

_Not that I really want to, _I think, unnerved by the trees that are beginning to contort and twist to reach the sunlight. But I respond, "Sure." With Muse on my shoulder, I delve deeper into the forest. Twice we have to stop to battle off hostile Pokémon. The first one is a Patrat with much crazier eyes than its brethren (which is saying something when they have the most psychedelic-looking red and yellow eyes I've ever seen), but Muse takes him down easily. She actually allows me to command her in this battle. The second one was a short one with an aggressive Pidove that felt we were disturbing her nest. With little command on my part, Muse downs her easily and we navigate our way toward Hugh.

Standing in a clearing with his back to me, Hugh has his arms crossed. The fabric of his customary red and white jacket is stretched tight across his back and shoulders like the hair on the bow I use to play upright bass. "Where the hell could he be?" he mutters to himself, sounding worried. Snivy sits at his feet, looking as bored as always. I have yet to see that Pokémon look even mildly enthused.

"Hugh," I say, startling my friend. "How much of the forest have you searched?" I ask, gesturing around.

"Not a lot. You wouldn't believe this, but I got attacked by a Riolu in here," he says, and he unzips his jacket and lifts the hem of his shirt to show a lovely violet bruise spreading across his midriff. "The little bastard jumped out of the underbrush punched me when I walked by an elm tree," he explains flatly as he releases the hem of his shirt.

I raise my eyebrows. Riolu? The pre-evolution of a Lucario? What would one be doing here? With the exception of Dad's Lucario, who had been given as a gift from a friend in Sinnoh, that evolutionary line isn't found in Unova. There used to be Riolu in Challenger's Cave up north, but the cave collapsed about nine months ago.

Hugh notices the rattled expression on my face and raises one eyebrow in questioning. "What? Do you want a Riolu?"

"I…" I pass a hand over my jaw. I haven't really told Hugh about Dad's Lucario, and how the sudden appearance of the Riolu are threatening to make me think of my old friend in depth. Deciding on a smile, I retort, "Maybe. Who knows? We need to find Herdier, remember?"

"Sorry. You looked a little lost there," Hugh says, throwing his hands up defensively. "I'm going to check this general area again with Snivy. If you could search a little further back, it'd be appreciated."

I give a nod. Muse and I continue on our way, leaving Hugh behind us. Now tangled among the thoughts of a worried Hugh, a lost Herdier and a seemingly displaced Riolu, I feel confusion seep into my skin like chlorine in a public pool. "Herdier!" I call, encouraging the Pokémon to come closer, but I'm a tangle of nerves. Suddenly I have a burning desire to see a Riolu, but I need to help the ranchers and Hugh with the Herdier problem. _After we find Herdier, I have to find the Riolu, _I decide.

Patting at my cheek, Muse knowingly murmurs, "Sha, osha," as if to encourage me to go forward with that plan.

"I really wish I could understand you," I grumble, making Muse chortle.

We roam through the forest, calling for Herdier (or, in Oshawott's language, it's more like screaming "WOTT!" at the top of her lungs) and also keeping an eye out for Riolu. We end up getting into a few more battles with territorial Pidove, wild-eyed Patrat, and even a particularly concussed-looking Psyduck. After Muse and I defeat him, I sigh loudly. "Where the heck could this Herdier have gone to, Muse?" I ask.

Suddenly, I hear a loud bark of anger. That isn't some little yip of a Lillipup; that's the harsher yap of a Herdier. It's a chilling sound. Either Herdier is cornered or he's gotten himself into quite the tussle. Muse leaps off my shoulder and gives me a certain look that says, "Let's go get him."

Nodding in agreement with her, we take off in the direction of the angry bark. Here the trees grow closer together, almost creating twisted and evil-looking walls in places. "Herdier, we're coming!" I shout. "Wait a second!"

I'd say it was a little longer than a second that Herdier has to wait. Because of the closely-growing, warped trees, we have to take a bit of a roundabout way through the trees to head in the direction of his barks. "This'd better be the right away," I breathe to myself after nearly tripping over a fallen tree in my haste to find the right way.

When I regain my balance once more, I find myself in a narrow grove, finding myself face-to-face with a rather menacing man in what looks like black special ops gear—beret, fatigues, and all. He faces away from me, and instead—much to my horror—he turns his attentions to a rather sore-looking Herdier. Without remorse he kicks the Pokémon in the side, hard. I barely have time to register the surge of rage inside of me before I snap, "Hey, asshole! Quit that!"

The man seems to jump out of his skin and looks at me with rather wide eyes. Blood boiling, I snarl, "You heard me! Buzz off!" Muse looks at me in mild horror, but I'm not about to stand down. Maybe I'm not some elite Trainer, but even I know that a person doesn't have the right to kick a Pokémon around like that! Nothing pisses me off more than a bully, anyway. I've spent too many years in school getting ordered around by people who think I'm silent and emotionless to not despise people like this man.

Surprise turning to anger, the man glowers at me and snaps, "Whatever, kid! Like this Pokémon is strong enough for my organization, anyway! Look at it!" he commands, gesturing at Herdier. "He's just cowering!"

"If I punched your lights out and kicked the shit out of you, I think you'd be cowering, too," I say coldly. "Go home to whatever your little 'organization' is and never come back."

Laughing oddly, the man reaches into his pocket and tosses something at me. I duck out of the way of it, and he declares, "Well, you'll certainly be seeing a lot more of Team Plasma again." He laughs and rushes away, leaving me to peak around and make sure nothing has exploded due to mysterious object tossing.

Upon realizing that I am relatively safe, I can't help but laugh at the thought of that bozo being in Team Plasma. Didn't he know how _hardcore _they were two years ago? Didn't he know that they wore medieval-looking uniforms? Plus, he was scared of a high school-aged girl yelling at him for kicking around a Herdier and ran off like a coward when he was caught. What a dweeb. _Not much like the Team Plasma I knew, _I think, sighing loudly.

Herdier uneasily totters over to me, his eyes filled with heavy dysphoria. Never in his life has he even been treated that badly—though his ranchers have a strict hierarchy going, it's obvious that Herdier is well-loved and spoiled. "It's all right," I breathe to him, beckoning him over with an extended hand. "Uh…I'm not a jerk like him."

Herdier pushes his wet little nose against my fingers, seeking reassurance. I pet him as Muse chatters at him happily. Once he's calm, I lift the Herdier into my arms and call, "Hugh! We have him!"

I hear him yell something back. Urging Muse to follow, I began to head in the direction of his voice when he suddenly bursts from the tangle of trees and nearly bowls me over, Snivy trotting in at his ankles. "Whoa! Sorry, Rosa!" he yelps, his voice hopping half an octave. When he sees Herdier in my arms, he frowns. It becomes clear to me that I need to explain this quickly in order to get the scrappy little Pokémon back to the ranchers.

Upon completing the story, Hugh's eyes are wide, mostly from the mention of Team Plasma. "But…you said he was wearing a beret and special ops-looking gear, right?" Hugh asks, shifting his weight nervously.

I nod. "Yeah. Team Plasma, in the year and a half that they were active, wore those stupid templar uniforms or whatever," I respond. Looking down at Herdier, I sigh heavily. "I'm just happy Herdier is all right. That man was really kicking him around."

Hugh doesn't respond for a moment and merely gazes past me. Then, his eyes focus and flit to my face. "But are you okay after all that?"

I shove my bangs out of my face, retorting, "Angry, but fine." I notice some concern leaves his eyes.

With an astute nod, he reaches his hands out. He says, "Let me take Herdier back. You have a look in your eye."

"A look?" I question.

"Like you need to get something done," Hugh says. "You want to find that Riolu, don't you." There isn't even a question in his voice when he states it.

I nod. "I do." Placing Herdier in his arms, I watch the Pokémon's face. He looks at me with trust before snuggling into Hugh's arms. He's so very trusting, and this incident with the mysterious man hasn't hurt his faith in humanity. My heart twinges at the thought. Reaching out, I ruffle his scruffy face. "I'm so sorry about what that man did. Make your ranchers spoil you rotten for the rest of the day, all right?"

I notice a smile twitching on Hugh's face. It disappears when I meet his eyes, though, and he gives a curt nod. "Best of luck." With Snivy at his heels, he weaves his way back through the forest. Eventually, I can no longer hear the sounds of Hugh's movements, and I was left alone in the forest with Muse.

"Osha?" she questions me, obviously waiting for my plan. What plan is there, though? Hugh encountered the Riolu in this forest; if I play my cards right and don't do anything to possibly spook the Pokémon, I should be able to find him.

I give her a tight smile. "Patience is a virtue," I say, and without much more thought, I head into the forest. Muse springs ahead of me, apparently haven't taking my sage words to mind, but that's all right.

Between thoughts of Lucario and the strange incident, I feel a strange, seething emotion that is not exactly negative, but it isn't quite making me feel any happier, either. There isn't a name for it that springs to my mind, but I try to stifle it. I'm off to find a Riolu, and I'll be damned if I let some mysterious emotion take over my head and contort the thrum of melody running through it.

* * *

_A/N: Hello and welcome to "Sometimes I forget that there are people who find Hugh really hot and that there are people who find Rosa to be a cutesy little angel girl." But man, headcanons in Sequelshipping vary a lot. Unlike Soulsilvershipping (my OTP) or Ferriswheelshipping (my ex-OTP), it isn't a highly-analyzed ship, and so I'm kind of guessing and checking as I go._

_So I guess this doesn't classify as a play-through, since I've elaborated a lot on the plot. (3 chapters in and Rosa doesn't even have her first badge yet? Whaaaaat?) My friend told me to classify this as a UA (yes, a UA, not an AU) and I guess I'm not fanfic-savvy enough to really want to do that. For those of you who read IBAW, you'd know this is my second published attempt at fanfiction, so don't bite too hard if I do really stupid things in my fics._

_Right now, I'm just going to warn you that I'm coming up on finals week (plus a lot of extraneous rehearsals and commitments) and probably a few kill runs at the gym because I'm very stressed and WOW THERE'S SO MUCH GOING ON THIS WEEK. I apologize if I don't update for a while; this is the first time I've ever really published a chapter to a fic without having another one at least started. I'll try not to leave you guys hanging for too long!_

_Thanks for reading and reviewing Sonata in Gray so far! It means a lot!_


	4. Maestoso

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon or its characters. Likewise, Pokemon and its characters do not own me...in theory.

* * *

Rosa's POV:

"You found quite an unusual Pokémon, didn't you, Rosa?" Alder asks me, seemingly hiding a bright grin behind the hand he passes over his jaw and his mouth.

It's midday in Floccesy Town, the sun shining weakly through clouds weighted darkly with rain. However weak the sun is, I feel a burning fire inside of me, a heat as intense as standing on Mercury. To my left stands Muse, an edgy little smirk contorting her cute features, and to my left stands Armstrong, my rather standoffish Riolu.

I glance at Armstrong. As he gazes icily back at me with flat red eyes, I'm reminded of how earlier this afternoon he'd defended himself from the tactical brutality of Muse.

"_What's up?" I asked Muse. She stopped right in between the only pair of regular-looking trees in this forest—a pair of supple, flawless birch trees that let the sun shine vibrantly through the leaves. Her nose twitched, and she frowned. Something was up…but what was it, exactly?_

_Without a moment to spare, a dull blue blur dropped from the tree and slammed Muse hard in the jaw. A Riolu had appeared and was as territorial as the average male Purrloin, so it seemed. "Son a—" I stopped myself from cursing. I realized it was a Riolu, and he glared at me with stark, dusty red eyes. "Muse, Water Gun!" I ordered, resisting the cacophonous notes of what seemed like a novice orchestra in my head._

I let my gaze snap to Alder presently. "He put up something of a fight, I'll say," I admit, "but…I think he was really impressed by Muse…"

_Riolu was fast, but Muse was far more tactful. In the past day, she had fought hard against her opponents. Her training, coupled with her natural instincts, gave her the upper hand over the younger Pokémon who clearly hadn't had an opponent stronger than a Mareep on the ranch. Though I gave commands, Muse figured out trajectories and momentum, and essentially beat the Riolu without a lot of effort on her part._

_A voice cut into my mind. _Stop, _it ordered, while Riolu growled "Ri!" out loud. I realized that this Riolu was capable of human speech just like Lucario had been._

_Rising to his feet after Muse's last blow, the Riolu glared at me. _Are you looking to capture me? _Riolu asked, folding his paws over his chest. His mental voice was young and a little roguish, but his language was anything but._

_I shrugged. "If you don't want to be captured, I won't capture you."_

_He turned to Muse, and they had a conversation. Riolu seemed to have a great deal of respect for her battle prowess; if he decided to join my team, I would have a pair of incredibly powerful fighters for a novice Trainer. After a few moments, he turned to me. _I have grown bored on this ranch. The Riolu here have grown scarce, and our mentor is gone. The other Pokémon do not provide a good challenge. I feel that if I join you and your Oshawott, I could become as strong as she is.

_I felt elated. Maybe it wasn't a resounding yes, but Riolu wanted to join us. I crouched and reached out my hand. "Welcome to the crew," I said, smiling. With hesitation, he rested my paw in my hand and nodded to me._

I finish explaining how Armstrong had come to be part of our team, and Alder grins. "You let him have the choice? Some Trainers wouldn't even think of such a thing. If they want it, they have one of their Pokémon slap it around until it's too weak to obtain." Frowning, he asks, "How did you come up with the name Armstrong, though?"

"It's the last name of a singer I like," I respond sheepishly, "and he liked it when I brought it up."

_It is appropriately fierce-sounding for a fighter as well, _Armstrong comments, making both Muse and I chuckle.

Alder looks us over. "You know…I wanted you to train under me for a while, Rosa, but I have a different plan."

I raise my eyebrows. "What is this plan?"

"Come inside. I have some very young and impressionable Trainers who need to see the benefit of friendship and quality time with their Pokémon," Alder says, and he darts back into the house.

Me? Help train? For Pete's sake, his young and impressionable Trainers have probably been battling for longer than I have. What are they supposed to learn from me?

Armstrong gazes at me with annoyed eyes. _Does this man ever slow down? _

I shake my head. "Nah. Never." Muse nods in agreement, poking him with her paw. I can't help but smile; my two Pokémon are very different and very similar. Armstrong, caustic and cool, is Muse's exact opposite, as she is very warm and straightforward generally. However, they both possess determination, and for that I'm grateful. I realize I've been standing and beaming at my Pokémon like an enthusiastic conductor getting hit with the force of a brass section playing forte. "Come on. Let's go inside."

We walk to Alder's house. After the door opens, my nose is greeted with the scent of both delectable spices and old sweat. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dusky atmosphere, and when they do, I notice the place is clean and well-kept but shabby for a former Champion. A TV show that Hugh made me watch the first time I slept over at his house portrayed most Champions, former and current alike, as having lovely, fashionable homes. For example, Steven Stone in Johto owns many luxurious homes spread all across the world. I doubt that Alder is like that, upon seeing this establishment.

"Come on in, Rosa," Alder booms from the larger part of the house. Lit with old-fashioned gas lamps and smelling more strongly of sweat than the entrance did, this room contains Alder, sitting cross-legged on a rug, and two kids. One is a little girl of about eight at the most, with dark hair tied into pigtails that curve like bass clefs, and the other is a boy who looks a little older, with very neatly-combed brown hair. Alder gestures to these two kids, who look at me with some boredom. "These children are Seymour and Cassie, my two most devoted pupils. Would you care to battle each of them?" he asks.

I know it's already been decided that I would battle these kids, but I nod. "Sure thing. Let's take it outside," I say.

"Seymour, you can go first. Cassie, I want you to take notes on his battle style," Alder says, which almost makes me laugh. Though he's a former Champion, Alder doesn't seem like the sort of guy who'd order a younger trainer to take notes on another person's battle.

We step back outside. The cloud cover overhead has grown increasingly heavier, and adjusting to the light doesn't take much. Seymour eyes my Pokémon and me in a very predatory way for someone who might only be ten at the oldest. _I sense much viciousness being repressed inside of him, _Armstrong tells me. I'd gotten the same vibe—the look in his eyes reminds me of an overly competitive instrumentalist who won't take no for an answer.

Once we're on opposite sides of the crudely-made dirt arena, Alder settles himself at the midline. "The rules are quite simple," he states, sitting cross-legged. Cassie sits down near him, digging a tiny notepad from the pocket of her dress. My attention snaps back to Alder as he says, "Whoever runs out of Pokémon first loses—and don't be unnecessarily brutal." This last comment seems to be aimed at Seymour, who merely sighs and crosses his arms.

"Armstrong, do you want to battle first?" I ask. As the newest of the newbies in our group, I have to make sure my Riolu is comfortable. In our battles on the way back to Floccesy Town, he'd proven himself to be more the capable, but I'd also only captured him earlier today. Perhaps he feels tired or needs a break.

Armstrong shook his head. _Let Muse battle first. I am weary._

"Modern language, Armstrong. Modern. Language," I mutter, and then nod to Muse. "Go on. You're up first."

At Alder's cue to start, Seymour releases a small red Pokémon with a swirling tuft of fur on its head. It takes me a moment to realize that it's a Pansear; I haven't seen one in years. My mom had fostered an orphaned one back in her days of being a Pokémon Center attendant, but it was a much sweeter-looking one than this. Pansear has a hard edge to his eyes, and he glares at Muse with hatred.

Seymour orders, "Lick." His voice is young but chilly, unlike his Fire-type Pokémon.

"Dodge, and use Water Gun," I command. Muse springs easily out of the way and shoots a fast Water Gun, but Pansear is faster. He springs away on his palms and lands behind Muse, where he uses an unordered Scratch attack that tears three gashes across her back.

Muse cries out angrily as I order, "Don't worry; we'll get him yet. Tackle him." She lashes her tail out as he tries to sweep around her, making him stumble, and she then throws her weight down on Pansear in a move akin to Body Slam.

Seymour growls, "Scratch on its face."

Hell. This kid is a very dirty battler. Thankfully, Muse is the perfect antidote to drawing blood and vicious attack tactics. As Pansear swings his hands crooked into talons at Muse, I say, "Blast it down! You can do it!" She knows well enough that this means a Water Gun attack. The pulse of water blasts Seymour's Pansear harder into the ground than her Tackle did, and this direct hit doesn't do Pansear well. He staggers slowly backward, cringing and attempting to sneer. He fails, however, and totters backward onto his backside.

Seymour scowls. "Get up, Pansear."

Pansear attempts to, but with his shaky legs, he can't do it. He lets himself flop over backwards, grumbling, "Pan…sear."

Seymour represses a loud growl and returns him. "Should've used items," he grumbles.

His attitude reminds me of the strange man from earlier that day. Folding my arms across my chest angrily, I quietly seethe, "Should've shown some respect for your Pokémon."

"Excuse me?" Seymour snaps, glaring at me as though I'd told him something he didn't know.

I give a tight, angry sort of smile. Sort of like a skull's grin. "I haven't been doing this for very long, but you're ridiculous. Do you really expect to treat a Pokémon like a war machine and get anything good out of it?"

"Isn't that what I've been telling you for the past three months, Seymour?" Alder asks quietly, his voice carrying neutral tones masterfully. "If a complete beginner can tell how badly you treat your Pokémon, then doesn't that mean it's time for a change?"

Wordlessly, Seymour returns his Pokémon to his Pokeball and storms off. The gray, wan-looking sky seems happier than this Seymour kid. Alder gazes off after him sadly. "It's a shame. He's tactically very bright, but he can't treat that pour Pansear of his very well," he says quietly.

"Do I write that in my notes?" Cassie asks, making me chuckle. She's serious in a very cute and honest way, like many young children are.

Alder seems to be used to questions like this and sighs. "You know whether or not to write things like that in your notes. Are you ready to battle?"

She bounces onto her feet, nodding with solemnity. Her notes lay forgotten at her feet as she tugs a Pokeball from her dress pocket. I glance back at Armstrong. "Hey, are you going to take this one?" I ask.

_Certainly, _he replies, padding forward. With ease he settles into a fighting stance, shooting me an odd, lazy grin that doesn't suit his face. He gets this every single time he goes into battle. It seems so uncustomary for a Pokémon that's so normally serious and grouchy…

Cassie tosses a Pokeball wordlessly, releasing a Panpour. Unlike Pansear, Panpour seems reserved and gentle—a very uncharacteristic trait for one of the three elemental monkeys. He glances back at Cassie, waiting for an order.

"Use Leer, please," Cassie says, and I'm taken aback by the stark difference from Seymour in the way she treats her Pokémon. Panpour, in spite of his typically lax expression, glares daggers at Armstrong, who can't help but shudder.

I sigh. It's saddening, how Pokémon are entrapped by moves like that that tend to lower their stats. "Armstrong, use Quick Attack!" I say.

Armstrong springs after Panpour quickly, but his opponent dodges lithely, eyebrows raised as if to say, "Too slow."

Growling, Armstrong glances back at me. _He mocks me._

"I sense that. Quick Attack again," I order. He's faster than Panpour, so I might as well use that to my advantage, right?

"Scratch him when he gets close," Cassie says just as Armstrong gets close. I want to tell him to stop, but there isn't enough time as Panpour jabs his sharp nails into my Riolu's side, drawing blood. I repress the urge to curse. I can't just beat Pokémon down with brute force, obviously. Maybe I have to use something a little more tactful to take care of a very careful, patient Trainer, especially if using Armstrong's speed isn't giving us the edge that I hoped it would…well, in a case like this…maybe it was time to use the move Counter.

Armstrong draws back. _Your plan is not working, _he snipes.

I smile. "Have some faith."

Cassie orders another Scratch attack. I sense some more confidence and aggression in her attack style now; maybe she thinks Armstrong isn't strong enough or smart enough to take on Panpour. "Wait," I tell Armstrong, who is getting ready to charge at her. He looks back at me like I'm possessed. When Panpour gets too close to turn back, I say, "Counter."

Panpour lands a direct hit, but my Riolu punches him in the gut with twice the force than he'd been hit with. It decimates Panpour, sending him slamming into the ground about seven feet away, hissing in pain. _I had no idea that I could have that much power, _Armstrong ponders, and I wonder if he meant to say that to me or not.

"Oh no!" Cassie cries. "Please get up!"

Panpour gets onto his feet shakily. She smiles, evident relief in her feature. "Good work. Use Leer again!"

Panpour starts to glower at Armstrong, but I don't give him the chance. "Do a Quick Attack. He's barely standing," I order.

He hits quickly, and Panpour is down wordlessly.

Cassie sighs loudly. "Darn it," she says, and she goes out to pet Panpour's head. "You did well, little buddy." She returns him to his Pokeball and studies me.

I feel a little nervous under her gaze. Like Seymour, her eyes are intense, but more in the way that she's trying to figure out the sort of person that I am. I say, "That was a good battle. Your Panpour seems to trust you."

She nods. "He's been my friend since I was five."

Alder stands up, brushing dust off of his pants. He interrupts, "That was a good one! Cassie, what did you learn from Rosa?"

"She talks to her Pokémon like they're people," she says quietly. "Like best friends. I should do that."

"You do, too," I say reproachfully, raising my eyebrows. Muse and Armstrong nod in agreement.

Cassie shakes her head. "But you sound like you really think of them as equals. Like…best friends. I'm just polite…I guess I don't really see my Pokémon that way."

I feel a little shocked. What is it with these people who view Pokémon as being below them? Or tools? Even if I'd never been a Trainer up until now, I never saw Pokémon like that. Mom's Liepard might've pissed me off more times that I could even begin to count, but I never said things like "That dumb beast" or "that bitchy Pokémon." If I despised her, I despised her like a despised a human.

Now, with Muse and Armstrong, they feel like friends. There is such intelligence in their eyes, and I don't understand how they could be lower than us. I don't understand how anyone can have that kind of mindset.

Alder seems to notice the conflict in my face. He sends Cassie inside on some menial task and approaches me. "Those children bother you, don't they?" he asks.

Shrugging it off, I crouch down to pet Muse, who has been making concerned noises at me. "It's just…when I was their age, my best friend was one of my dad's Pokémon. A Lucario, actually. And to see them kind so cold with Pokémon makes me sad. I was no Trainer, but I saw Pokémon as equals and still do and they don't," I explain.

With a low sigh, Alder scratches at his jaw. "Floccesy Town is traditionally a ranching town. Pokémon are tools here, whether it's because of agriculture, ranching, or some other very physical profession. I'm trying to train the children out of doing what their parents do, but with some, it's to no avail…" he trails off, and his expression brightens. "I think Seymour's tough defeat will give him something to think about. He learns best by example."

"I'd be happy if he ended up something like Cassie, even if she doesn't necessarily view her Pokémon as partners," I say.

Alder nods. Then, he looks down the road, eyes sharp. "You've gotten much stronger very quickly. If you head to Aspertia City, I believe that the young whippersnapper Cheren opened his Gym, finally."

Ah. Yes. The Gym. It had been the talk of Aspertia City for the past six months—particularly for young females. Cheren is renowned where I live for being a tactical genius and for also possessing the nerd-chic-sexy look. Hugh and his friends used to laugh about his supposed lack of masculinity, until I reminded them that he had massive clouds of fans and they got laughed at a lot in school.

I look to Alder with a grin. "I'm kind of excited. Muse has grown a lot even in the past two days, and Armstrong is so eager."

_I am the epitome of eagerness, _Armstrong retorts in sarcastic tones with a rather serious look on his face. I give him a dirty look. How dare he contradict his spokeshuman?!

Alder notices the look exchanged between us. "You can speak with him?"

I nod. "Yeah. I could with Dad's Lucario, too."

"That's not a common trait in Unovan people. Though Riolu and Lucario are smart Pokémon, they very rarely synchronize their aura to that of a human being's for communication." With a smile, he says, "If you've connected with two, I can imagine that you could connect with any Pokémon and communicate." Before I can question what he means by that, he runs off into his house, chuckling with some excitement as he went.

I glance at Armstrong. "You like me if you synced your aura to mine."

_You have a pleasant aura. You are not like the usual human with muddy, ugly aura, _he says in a snide voice. Pointing down the road, he says, _Is there not a Gym to conquer down the road?_

"Snarky little ass, aren't you?" I say, earning a barely repressed chortle from Muse.

He merely sniffs and starts off without me. I yelp, "Hey! Wait up! Don't learn bad habits from Alder! You're too young for that!"

Muse and I are left to run after him, laughing and almost tripping over each other as we go. Sweet, energetic chords thread through my mind and soul, filling me with a steadier warmth than the one I felt after capturing Armstrong. I've only been a Trainer for twenty-four hours, but I feel blessed to have such incredible friends already.

* * *

When we arrive back in Aspertia City, the air here already seems so different. It fills my head with the clutter of old melodies and my lungs with mildly polluted air. The difference of a few miles between a ranching town and a small city astounds me.

Before going to the Gym, I decide to visit my mom. I want her to see that, so far, I'm really happy with my Pokémon.

We take the familiar path home. Armstrong lost steam quickly after charging off in an Alder-like manner, and he currently walks about three feet ahead of me, sometimes commenting on the cityscape. _I was born on Floccesy Ranch, and I was convinced that I would die there, too, _he said. _The city is new to me._

"Osha, osha, osh wott," Muse comments, twiddling with her scalchop. I feel like she said something in concurrence with Armstrong's words, and so I nod.

When we approach home, a bittersweet chord seems to resonate throughout my body. Once I take on the Gym and leave Aspertia City, it'll be a long time before I'm back here again. Before I can enter the house, Mom exits it, a rusty spade in one hand and a pair of grubby gardening gloves in the other—it's the time of year to plant tomato seeds, after all.

"Mom! Hi!" I call, startling her. She drops the spade and turns to look at me. Grinning, she drops her gloves, too, and runs over to give me a hug.

"Rosa! I can't believe it's only been a day since you've become a Trainer! And look at you!" she exclaims, drawing back. "Two Pokémon already—oh my Arceus, is that a Riolu?" she asks, her voice suddenly far quieter than it had been before.

I chuckle quietly, brushing my hair from my eyes. "His name is Armstrong. I caught him at Floccesy Ranch."

"I just…I'd imagined you'd avoid that line entirely, after your father…" Mom didn't finish her sentence. She let the smile return to her face. "But he's a handsome boy."

_I like her already, _Armstrong commented.

I resist the urge to clap a hand to my forehead. He likes having his ego stoked, that's for sure. With my best neutral expression, I say, "I suppose he is. Apparently, the Gym just opened here?" I ask, looking for confirmation.

"Oh yes! The old Trainer School finally has all of those arenas behind it being put to good use," she says. When we first moved here, Mom had helped with the effort to establish a Gym in this town after Brycen closed his in Iccirus City. In fact, I'm sure that's why we moved here. As a former ranked Trainer and trained healer, her current job is to promote strong Trainers and help set up organizations and establishments to strengthen Pokémon Trainers and their beloved Pokémon.

I smile. "I'm sure it's great, seeing it open."

"Yes. And the young Gym Leader is a classy boy, too," Mom says. "I hope you find a boy like that."

"_Moooom." _

"Don't sound so exasperated! Go and battle him, sweetheart! You already look so much tougher than when you left," she said. Wrapping an arm around my shoulder, she kissed my forehead. "I'm so proud of you."

_Now that I'm a Trainer, you are, _I want to say, but I hold my tongue. Like some parents think that their child being gay is a phase, my mom is convinced that my interest in music is something that'll die off if I'm distracted enough.

Regardless, I bid her goodbye and head toward the Gym. Muse demands my attention, and I scoop her up, planting a kiss on the side of her face as I do. "Are you ready for some tough opponents?" I ask, tickling her chin.

"Osh!" She exclaims, nodding fiercely.

Armstrong adds, _I hope this Cheren boy is as fierce of a battler as everyone claims he is._

"Oh, he is. He's actually one of former Champion White's closest friends and strongest rival. They were thinking about instating him as Champion after she left, but he declined," I explain. "By the way, let's stop by the Pokémon Center quick. We need some Potions and things if we're going into a Gym."

_If he is one of White's friends, would he be your age? _Armstrong asks as we divert course to the Pokémon center. I see a few girls from school sitting on the doorstep of a nearby apartment, and they do a double-take when they see me with Pokémon. "Hey!" One of the girls, a stocky, curly-haired girl named Patrice, calls. "When'd you get Pokémon?"

"Yesterday!" I retort.

"So you're done being a music geek, then?" shouts another girl, a minky blonde named Shawna.

I merely smile. "Never," I respond, and I continue on my way. I can feel their confused stares boring into my back. For once, I don't even feel an iota of shame.

Armstrong glances back at them. _Such ugly aura, _he comments.

"I'm not at all surprised. When I first moved here, Shawna told her friends not to talk to me because 'quiet girls have nasty secrets we don't want to know about'."

"Osha!" Muse cries, aghast.

Hugging her closer to my chest, I draw my hands slowly in circles over her back. "I'm all right. I met Hugh, and his friends kind of took me in, too, so I didn't need a bunch of girls like that in my life, right?"

We reach the Pokémon Center, where I buy a few Potions from the vender's counter, and then finally make our way to the new Gym. Muse wants to walk from here, so I set her down and let her do just that. Her excitement is nearly tangible. Meanwhile, Armstrong gets a swagger in his step, jabbing a few punches into the air here and there. Ready to fight for their keep, my team knows this is a defining moment. Whether I win or lose here today says exactly what sort of Trainer I've become so far…

…in 24 hours.

The new Gym, now open, is a welcoming, scholarly-looking little building. It's essentially an old-time school house on steroids, sitting up on a knoll in front of the bluff at the center of the city. Standing in front of it with my Pokémon, I glance at them excitedly. "You guys ready?" I ask, dancing from foot to foot.

_Certainly, _Armstrong replies, while Muse nods vigorously.

I run up the steps to the entrance. The moment I start to open the door, though, someone on the other side seems to be turning the knob. Before I can stop myself, I end up pushing through the door and ramming hard into someone's body. They mutter curses as all balance is lost and we collapse to the floor together. Mollified, I try to roll off, but my legs are tangled…with his.

Yes. I just bulldozed over Cheren. He lays on the floor looking mildly daze, muttering, "…too light to be Bianca."

"Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!" I yelp, still attempting to untangle my legs with no luck. Armstrong is laughing at me, and I feel a strong urge to order Muse to blast him with Water Gun.

Cheren seems to regain his bearings a little, and he gazes up at me rather coolly. "This is a bit of a blunder," he says in a rather low voice for such a small, slender boy. He's probably only as tall as me. "I heard someone rushing up the steps and was certain that it was my old friend Bianca."

"She gave me my Oshawott," I say awkwardly. The way I'm sitting, I can't get off him unless Cheren decides to move his legs first.

Realizing our predicament, Cheren coughs awkwardly. "Uh…could you get off me?"

"My legs are kind of stuck under yours and at a bad angle. I need you to move yours first," I say sheepishly, looking away. He has beautiful, almost feminine features, and it's difficult to look at him. Not because I find him particularly attractive, but it's as though he almost makes me self-conscious.

Cheren twists his legs, rolling them off of mine. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry," he says, obviously about my legs getting tangled with his in a way that could injure me if I tried to get up on my own.

I clamber to my feet, wincing a little. He's all angles, and running into him had hurt. "It's all right. Well, um…I'm here to challenge your Gym. I'm a new Trainer, and I want to see my worth," I tell him as he stands up and dusts off the front of his white button-down shirt. "If…that's okay?"

I'm not attracted to him, but he certainly has a strange effect on me. I'm not sure that I like it.

Cheren nods, and the movement is terse and controlled. If he would be in music, he'd be a lead brass player—clipped, technical, and highly reliable, if not egotistical. "Perfect. Are you sure you have what it takes? There are students here who have studied here for years and still don't have a single Gym Badge."

I swallow nervously, but when I see Muse and Armstrong's faces, I repress this action. I turn to Cheren and nod. "If I don't, it'll still be a learning experience," I say. It'll be like an audition. Regardless of whether not I'm properly prepared or good enough, it'll still give me a good indication of where I am and what I need to do when it comes to Muse and Armstrong.

"Good answer," Cheren says, surprising me. His dark eyes pierce me as he adds, "I'll get a few of my best in back. If you can beat them…then you can battle me." Before I can protest and say I'm only interested in procuring his Gym Badge, he sweeps through a door nearby. As it clatters shut, I'm left in dusty silence with my Pokémon.

_As you said, it will be a learning experience, no? _Armstrong says, absentmindedly playing with one of his head tufts.

I nod. "Right." Let's go.

We follow Cheren through the doors.

* * *

_A/N: Hello and welcome to "And Hugh doesn't get a say in this chapter, but check it out! Cheren! Whoo!" I love Cheren. He is the epitome of a lucky and successful puberty, I swear to God._

_So, Armstrong's nickname is derived from Billy Joe Armstrong, lead singer of Green Day. Or you could say trumpet player Louis Armstrong. Either way, two really good musical Armstrong guys. In the Pokemon universe, neither exist, though, so I'll just pretend I didn't make an out-of-universe reference there._

_I feel like I had some other thing to mention...mwehh. Not sure what it is. If I remember, I'll put it in the next author's note._

_By the way, I have two finals tomorrow, and THEY'RE SCARING ME, GUYS. MATH AND EUROPEAN HISTORY. And then the day after that I have to give a presentation entirely in Spanish about my childhood and also bullshit some things about political science. At least I'm done with political science after this term._

_Anyway, thanks again for reading and reviewing. I should go to bed; I need to be up in about seven and a half hours and I'll be taking a math final in nine. I hope you all have lovely weeks.  
_

_Until next update, enjoy life._


	5. L'istesso Tempo

Rosa's POV:

There is nothing nearly as satisfying to Armstrong as smacking around his opponents with style and fearsome strength.

"Quick! Armstrong! Get his Lillipup with Counter!"

_With pleasure,_ he states, taking Lillipup's attack and doubling the power, effectively throwing him across the battle field.

"Nice work. Finish him off with Quick Attack!"

Without a lot of effort, Muse, Armstrong and I have taken on and defeated one of Cheren's best students, a scrappy-looking boy called Pedro. From the back end of the field, said Gym Leader watches with eyes that reveal nothing. In spite of his cool demeanor, he's fidgety, and occasionally he tugs at his tie, particularly when Pedro takes a tough hit. I sense that the mistakes that Pedro makes bother him. He doesn't like that one of his underlings isn't doing his best.

Analyzing this observation, I notice that he's a perfectionist. Maybe I can use this to my advantage.

Pedro, after being handed a nasty defeat by Armstrong, gives a sigh and kicks at the ground. "Well, darn. You're pretty good," he says. By the sound of his voice, he is on the cusp of puberty—maybe twelve years old? Before I can thank him for the battle, he points at the next field, where a slim, dark-eyed girl who bears startling (if a much cleaner and sleeker) resemblance to him stands waiting. They're definitely siblings. "That's Silena over there. Beat her and you can battle Cheren." He sprints off the field.

"I sense he drinks a lot of Red Tauros," I mutter to my Pokémon. Muse gives me a confused look. Armstrong, being too high and mighty for such expressions, merely rolls his eyes. It's doubtful as to whether either of them know about the energy drink popular with middle school boys.

Regardless, we make the short trip over to the second arena. Silena doesn't spare a lot of chatter before sending out her own Lillipup.

"These Normal-types, I swear to Arceus," I mutter to myself. "Which of you wants to take this one?"

Muse hops onto the field, her eyes shining. How did I end up with two Pokémon filled with elated senses of bloodlust?

In about two minutes and thirty seconds—the exact amount of time it takes for me to precisely tune my upright bass without my piano—Muse flattens her team. I don't understand how she can take a command as simple as "Water Gun" and turn it into something tactically brutal and efficient, but I'm pleased with it.

As Silena returns her downed Patrat, I hear a low cough from the end of the field. I glance to see Cheren gazing at me expectantly, as if to say, _Well? Are you coming or not?_

I exchange glances with my Pokémon, who have hard, ambitious eyes, and we cross the fields until we reach the platform that Cheren stands upon. At this close proximity, I can now see that the platform itself is a small battlefield, maybe only thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide. Is this really where I'm going to battle for my first Gym Badge?

"Nice work," he congratulates coolly as I walk up the steps. "Are you prepared?"

"That's what I'm here to find out," I respond.

His mouth twitches a little—I don't suppose he smiles a lot. Then, tugging at his tie in an official manner, he says, "Just as this is your first Gym challenge, this is my first Pokémon battle as a Gym Leader! Let's both do our best and have a battle we can be proud of!"

With that said, he sends out a Patrat.

Armstrong paces forward. _I will take this fool, _he tells me. I catch Muse shaking her head off to the side, but I merely nod.

I decide to let Armstrong beat the crazy-eyed Pokémon to bits. "Quick Attack," I say, but before he even reaches Patrat, I hear the order for an attack called Detect.

A strange sheen blooms between Patrat and Armstrong, and suddenly Armstrong is thrown back mightily, slamming into the ground and rolling back onto his feet. _Dirty battler, _he curses. _How uncouth._

"It was a fair move," I growl to him.

"Patrat, use Tackle," Cheren orders coolly, and Patrat races toward my Riolu with a defiant look on his little face.

I decide that, once again, patience is a virtue. "Use Counter on it," I breathe. Armstrong's ears prick at the sound, and he lets Patrat tackle him before using the moment to crush the Pokémon into the ground. The move doesn't faze Patrat as much as I'd hoped…perhaps his level is much higher than Armstrong's?

"To have chosen that move…" Cheren states as Patrat clambers to his feet. "I see! You'll be a powerful opponent!"

_You mean a girl who's been training Pokémon for twenty-four hours is a powerful opponent? _I think, repressing a bark of laughter as Cheren orders Patrat to use an unfamiliar move called "Work Up". Patrat's cheeks glow brightly as he clenches his paws. "Pat, rat! Pat!" Patrat cries, eyes wilder than they were before.

Armstrong makes an odd hissing noise. _His aura is flaming red. I caution you to be careful._

"Thanks for the warning. Hit him hard with Quick Attack before we figure out what it does," I say, and Armstrong takes off after him. Another "Detect" attack is ordered, and Riolu is sent skittering across the platform again.

I gasp. "Are you all right?"

_I suggest, Miss Rosa, that we use caution in our next attack, _he wheezes. _I sense that the move "Feint" could be of use when that bastard with psychedelic eyes uses Detect. _

I frown. He had asked to learn the move "Feint" just earlier today. But I don't understand the use of it. "Go for it," I say.

Armstrong clambers shakily to his paws and then charges at Patrat, who once again uses Detect. "Uh…Feint!" I cry. With a fierce paw, Armstrong breaks through the barrier and punches Patrat square in the face. Shocked by the change in strategy, Patrat is floored by the hit. This time, he's the one who staggers back onto his feet, clutching at his head painfully.

Cheren growls, "Don't let him take you so early, Patrat. You're better than that."

"Rat!" Patrat declares, nodding in agreement.

_I hope to deal him a blow he shall never forget, _Armstrong says, his eyes flashing. Nearby, Muse cheers in agreement, watching her new friend with admiration in her eyes.

"Then go get him," I say, feeling myself grin. I feel so lucky to have these two Pokémon who are so willing to work and fight for me, particularly when I'm such an unknowledgeable greenhorn. "Quick Attack!"

Patrat falls soon after this attack, inflating Armstrong's already overinflated ego.

"Hmph. Good work," Cheren mutters, and I'm not sure if he's talking to me or his fallen Patrat. He returns Patrat to his Pokeball. "Lillipup! It's your turn!"

Unlike the other Lillipup I've seen so far, with silly, sweet little expressions, this Lillipup has a hard-eyed look in his eye. He wants to please his Trainer, and he will do it by any means possible. "Armstrong, do you want to keep going?" I ask.

_Let Muse take this one, _he says tiredly, his voice haggard. _I am exhausted. Please excuse me. _He walks toward me, and for the first time, he allows me to scoop him into my arms. His weight is similar to that of a three year old child, and I can sense nearly all of this weight is muscle.

I smile and pet his head kindly. "Fair enough. Muse?" I inquire, and she looks at me with a spark in her eye. She's more than ready to show Lillipup what she's made of.

Cheren watches us, and then straightens his tie again. He worries about that silly piece of fabric an awful lot. Simply, he states, "Lillipup, Work Up."

"Muse…" she glances back at me, waiting for an order. I simply hold up my hands. "Do what you need to do, sweetie. You're raring to go."

"Wott!" Muse cries, and she throws herself into a battle with the sort of dedication I throw into playing piano. It's at this moment that I know I'm going to emerge with my first-ever Gym Badge, even if it has cost Armstrong his ability to stand for the time being.

Cheren doesn't seem too surprised that he lost to me. With a quiet, barely-there smile, he walks over to the edge of the platform. "Sit with me a moment," he says. Wondering what he could possibly want with me after Muse curb-stomped his Lillipup (to put it lightly), I follow him and we sit there together. Armstrong, still resting in the curve of my arm, protests at the jostling from my movement. Unharmed, Muse cuddles up to me, high on adrenaline yet.

Cheren leans back and gazes up at the sky, laden with gray clouds and laced here and there with glints of sunlight, and he says, "That battle has made me feel really glad you were my first challenger as a Gym Leader…" Reaching into his pocket, he pulls something out of it and extends this item toward me. With the first note of enthusiasm I've heard him ever use, he declares, "I give you this in honor of the strength you and your Pokémon showed!"

I accept the item. It's a tiny brown and gold rectangle. A lump forms in my throat; I recognize this shape and material, but I don't have the breath to acknowledge my recognition of this item.

Noticing my expression, he gives a light, almost mirthless sort of laugh. "This is your first Gym Badge, the Basic Badge. This is an important milestone, Rosa. With this Badge, Pokémon up to Lv. 20 will obey you, including traded Pokémon."

"Wow," is all I can murmur.

"And I want you to take this, too." He deposits another item into my free hand. This is the disc for a Technical Machine. Continuing in his explanation, Cheren says, "TM83 can teach your Pokémon the move Work Up. When you use Work Up while battling, it raises the user's Attack and Sp. Atk. By the way, TMs can be used as many times as you want!"

"So if I wanted to, I could have all of my Pokémon know this move?" I ask, just to make sure. I know that different regions have different rules concerning these machines, and as a new Trainer, I'm not very clear on Unova's standards just yet.

Cheren nods. "Of course." Looking at me more seriously, he states, "In the Unova region, there are eight Pokémon Gyms and eight Gym Badges. If you're a Trainer, you could collect all of them! That will make it easier to fill the pages of the Pokédex as well."

"I suppose that would help on my journey," I say, stroking Armstrong's head.

I notice that faint, barely-there smile touch Cheren's features once more. Quietly, he states, almost to himself, "Yes, two years ago, Pokédex in hand, I left on a journey with my friends." Glancing at me, he straightens his tie. "Cherish this. Even if you aren't travelling with friends, you certainly are going to meet a lot of people and Pokémon worth your time. It might even challenge and change relationships that already exist in your life." Standing up, he dusts off his jeans, and I follow suit.

"Cheren," I say, catching his attention. "You said earlier that you were expecting someone named Bianca. A blonde Bianca with a floppy green hat and glasses gave me Muse. Is…is that Bianca one of your friends?"

"Yes. And I'm guessing she's lost as always," Cheren retorts, his tone on the borderline of patronizing and affectionate.

I think back on things she's said. It feels like it's been such a long time already since I saw her yesterday afternoon. A light bulb flicks in my mind. _White. _Ex-Champion White. Whirling, I demand, "Cheren, was the former Champion White one of your friends?"

"Does Bianca go and announce that to just _everyone_?" Cheren sighs. "Yes. White is a friend of mine."

_What a power trio! _I think, aghast. How can _that _many people in one friend group be that powerful? Cheren sighs at my facial expression. "I know. Professors, Gym Leaders, and Champions all being friends. So outlandish."

"I'm…just going to go…and keep training now…" I say, astonished by the thought. "Thanks for the battle!" I add, glancing over my shoulder.

"You're welcome," is all Cheren says.

With Armstrong in my arms and Muse at my heels, I head back toward the school. I pocket the badge for the time being, and I grin. "Guys, we got a badge!" I whisper excitedly.

_Yes, exciting. You have a shiny trinket, _Armstrong retorts, whacking at me halfheartedly with his paw. _And Muse, with all of her chattering, would like to tell you that we have to get more of them._

"Yeah! Of course!" I respond to Muse, high on a mixture of adrenaline and success. "I won't stop you two now!"

Pushing through the doors into the school, I find myself colliding directly with yet another dark-haired individual—and this one is Hugh. It's by the grace of gravity and Arceus that I don't knock him over as well. "Rosa?" he questions, and he steadies me, though I feel as though I've probably almost floored him on accident.

"Hey," I greet, glancing away from his intense, wine-colored eyes. His hands are still on my arms, and their heat drags me back down to earth again. "Are you here to challenge Cheren?"

"I had to show Bianca how to get here," he responds in a bored voice, releasing me to gesture to the afore-mentioned blonde, talking to a freckly little girl with a Pidove. Glancing at Armstrong, his eyes widen. "Where'd you get a Riolu?"

"Floccesy Ranch. According to him, there are others, if you'd like to find one for yourself," I say. "His name is Armstrong."

"Like the last name of that one singer you like?" Hugh asks, seemingly amused.

I nod, unashamed. Nearby, Bianca notices that I'm here and gasps loudly. "Rosa!" she squeals, darting over to me. "Oh my goodness, look at you! You don't really look like a greenhorn anymore! Did you already beat Cheren?" she asks, practically burying me in a plethora of things to respond to.

Sort my thoughts from melodies and emotions, I merely say, "Muse and Armstrong fought very hard for their victory."

"That's perfect!" she squeals before enveloping me in a brief but congratulatory hug, earning a growl of indignation from Armstrong. I barely know Bianca, and she's already treating me like such a good friend. "I'm so happy for you."

"You're not doing too shabby, Rosa," Hugh remarks.

I smile, ducking my head at the barrage of attention. _If only I got this much support and encouragement with music, _I think wistfully.

The door opens behind me and Cheren enters the school. His eyes widen at the sight of Bianca. Cool expression thawing, he breaks out into a broad grin and cries, "Bianca!"

"Oh Arceus, it's you! Cheren!" she squeals, nearly bulldozing over me to throw herself into his arms. They hug, squeaking things that are utterly incoherent. By no means is Bianca fat, but she is a curvy girl and dwarves her slender friend, though they're about the same height. Hugh catches my eye, and he looks mildly disturbed by the almost out-of-character reunion near us.

They separate, and Cheren straightens his tie as Bianca shoves her glances back up on her nose. In a more sober voice, Cheren says, "I apologize for that. We haven't seen in each other in a few years, not since White took off." He looks between Hugh and me. "Rosa, is he your rival?"

"Friend," I say, but Hugh immediately states the contrary, shooting me a rare, cocky grin. I sigh. "I guess he is my rival, because apparently a friend who trains Pokémon, too, can't possibly be a buddy."

"Cheren is one of my rivals and he's still my best friend," Bianca says, "but if you look closely you'll see that he bristles when I say that."

Sighing, Cheren pushes at his nose as if he has glasses, and then stops himself mid-push. "I have to remind myself to be grateful that White is too busy searching for that idiot so that you two can't gang up on me anymore," he mutters.

Bianca chuckles before turning her attentions to Hugh and me. "Well, anyway, the point is, if you two were friends before, you're still friends. You're not just rivals or just friends; you're both," she says, planting her hands on her hips.

"That sounds real hunky-dory," Hugh mutters, earning a chuckle from me.

Cheren gives him a steady look. After a moment, he says, "Battle me sometime. You seem like a worthwhile challenger." Then he looks at me. "Rosa, do you have an Xtransceiver?"

"Of course." _Only every sixteen year old in the Unova does, you know. _

He notices the mildly sarcastic look that must have crossed my features, as he rolls his eyes. But then, he asks, "Could we exchange numbers? I'd like to keep in contact with the first person to defeat my Gym."

I nod. As we swap numbers, Bianca exclaims, "Hey! Can I get your number, too?"

It becomes a triangle of number swapping, and it soon becomes a quadrilateral of number swapping when Bianca somehow draws Hugh into it, too. I already have his number—he's really one of my only human friends, so of course I'd have his. After this has occurred, Cheren sighs. "Well, in case we need to tell each other stories about who caught the cutest Pokémon, we have each other's numbers."

"Cheren…did you just make a joke?" Bianca gasps.

Ignoring her comment, Cheren turns to Hugh and me. "Truthfully, I think that you two have great potential, and I will offer you any advice or help that you need on your journeys. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything." He turns to walk away.

Bianca begins to follow him before pausing. She declares, "If you two are concerned about your Pokémon, call me. I know all about behaviors and things now!" Without a goodbye, she trots off after her longtime friend.

That leaves Hugh and me alone, aside from an unusually quiet Armstrong and Muse. Hugh watches me with a curious expression as I crouch down to pet Muse's head, and after a moment, he says, "I think this suits you better than music ever will, even if you have probably one of the most beautiful voices I've ever heard." Before I can remark or react to the idea that Hugh likes my singing voice, he turns away and leaves, too.

_That was a botched flirtation on his part, _Armstrong says to me.

I flick his ear. "He wasn't flirting!" I say defensively, but I don't know if it's incorrect to assume such a thing. Hugh certainly did become very touchy and protective whenever his friends called me cute or hot.

"Wott, osha!" Muse declares, which Armstrong translates as, "That Hugh boy is stinky with hormones!"

"You two are incorrigible," I mutter, standing up. "Come on. Let's go get you two healed up. Then we can figure out where to head next."

Hugh's POV:

After getting wrangled into escorting that clueless Bianca woman around and garbling dumb things at Rosa, I decide that maybe I need to stop for the day and maybe go home for a while. I did leave without a lot of notice. Mom is probably on the verge of hunting me down with a two by four at this point.

I walk toward home. It's drizzling again, and it flattens my hair into my eyes. Fantastic. "Instead of a Qwilfish I'll look like a Deino," I grumble to myself.

"Hey! Hugh!" I turn at the familiar voice. It's one of my friends, a dark-haired, dark-skinned guy named Marcos.

He leaps off the front step of the apartment building he lives in and darts over to me, a fireball in spite of the rain. "What're you doing back here? Your mom said you left on a journey," he says, his tone almost accusatory.

"When did you talk to my mom?" I ask warily.

"This morning. I was getting some people to get out and play basketball, but you were gone. Rosa, too. Her mom said the same things yours did," he says wistfully. Marcos is a self-proclaimed "worshipper of Rosa's legs", and tended to use our friendship solely for the purpose of catching glimpses of them.

I give a wry smile. "Well, she's off on a journey with Pokémon."

Marcos laughs, his voice filled with disbelief. "Yeah, right," he scoffs. "Rosa? The music geek? Did you finally develop a sense of humor, you little shit?"

Ignoring his comments, I reply coolly, "She has a Badge and two Pokémon already. They don't even write fiction this farfetched, Marcos."

He stares at me, his mouth flapping without a single noise passing his lips. Maybe I'd had little faith in Rosa, too, but I guess I never constrained her to being solely a musician like Marcos had—yet I was fairly certain that I also never kept her around just to worship her legs, either. I decide that it's time to head home. Almost more to myself than to Marcos, I say, "She's tough. Rosa is really tough. If she decides that she is able to be a Trainer, she can damned well be a Trainer, and our prior thoughts and ideas about her have to change along with her." I turn back. "See you 'round, Marcos."

"Oh. Um…yeah…see ya," he says, looking at me as though I've sprouted an extra head.

In the same way that Rosa has turned herself into a Trainer in the past day, I, too, have felt my views on her change drastically since she decided that she would become a Trainer, although, at the very heart of it, she's still the same quiet girl with a killer sense of humor and a fantastically warm smile.

A/N: Yo, so I didn't update for three weeks and suddenly the doc manager and editor is totally different? I'm mildly frightened. So I have no idea how this works, and if suddenly my formatting is really messed up, I apologize profusely (I want the other version back). Anyway, so I'm terribly sorry about the slow update. I lost inspiration, started writing on a few other side fics, and also I'm in the process of writing short stories for my creative writing class. Plus...LOTS AND LOTS OF HOMEWORK. YIKES. I feel like I haven't slept in weeks!

So first and foremost, I'd like to apologize to the people who read the last chapter and noticed my dumb error in which I called Steven the Champion of the Johto (or some other region that is not the Hoenn) and quite honestly I meant Lance. Plus, I was referring to the wealth and strength of the dragon clan he's from with his home description. Hehehe. Perhaps I shouldn't ad lib like that anymore.

Also, admiration of Rosa's legs is considered a Unovan pastime. She and White had some fine legs. That was just a generation of women with lovely legs. Like, damn, look at those Unovan legs.

So, in short, I apologize once again for the slow update. And it wasn't too good of one, either. ;A; Nor was it particularly long. Please forgive me. I hope this slow update thing doesn't become a habit, because, man, I feel really guilty!

Please read and review! It's kind of funny, watching you guys pick up on the mistakes I make when I write at 1am on three hours of sleep from the night prior. 


	6. Rubato

**Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or its characters. But if I did, chances are I'd remember to put disclaimers and warnings on things *subtly references the lack of disclaimer last chapter*.**

* * *

Rosa's POV:

I'd always thought that Aspertia City was rainy and chilly in the spring, but that doesn't even hold a candle to the downpour I feel as though I'm drowning in once I enter Virbank City.

Muse is thrilled with the rain, slipping through mud puddles joyfully and tipping her muddied white head to the sky. Armstrong, on the other hand, couldn't be unhappier and made me recall him to his Pokeball as soon as we entered the city. I'd warned him that the weather was always like this here, but it certainly hadn't elevated his mood.

In comparison to the clean, if somewhat rundown looks of Aspertia City, and the rural comfort of Floccesy Town, Aspertia City is a slummy port city. Mom always said it was dangerous, but with Muse and Armstrong, I think I'll be perfectly safe. With this town, safety in numbers is always a good way to go. Currently, however, it's close to midnight, and between the heavy, dark rain and the figures roaming about with roving eyes and dangerous smiles, I come to the understand that these aren't the best conditions to be travelling in. "Perhaps it's time to go to the Pokémon Center, eh?" I mutter to Muse, who is currently busy splashing in the gutter.

"Osh?" she pauses to glance about. After a few moments, her gleeful expression vanishes and she suddenly realizes that there are some questionable people walking about. "Osh." She puffs up her chest and darts in front of me, acting like my bodyguard.

I can't help but laugh, in spite of feeling unnerved by some of these scary, heavily-tattooed men who leer in my direction.

The rest of the walk to the Pokémon Center is short and safe, thankfully. We enter the red-roofed haven. "My, you're out late!" calls the attendant, a rangy woman with copper-toned hair. "Get caught in the rain?" she adds, snickering.

_Rude, _I think, but I simply say, "Certainly. How much is a room for a night here?"

"Only 1000 Pokedollars. People don't want to stay 'round these parts for long," she responds as I wring out my hair.

Soon after, I'm in a room with Muse. With towels and blankets, I pat Muse's grungy fur down. "Mud, mud, and more mud. No wonder grunge started here. Everything is mud, rain, and depression in this town," I mutter. The music geek in me screams at the thought of being in the town where the subgenre of grunge got its start. Though this place is slummy and messy, I'll have to see the sights; maybe some inspiration will come here.

Wait. Inspiration.

I feel my stomach plummet. Music. I'd practically forgotten about my baby over the past day and a half. My stomach feels heavy with the thought that, with the introduction of Muse and Armstrong into my life, my first passion fizzled out like a candle thrown in a puddle.

I tear my wet shirt off and grab a clean towel, patting my face and torso down. _It's just because I'm so busy, _I think. _Now that I'm in this musical town, I will be able to do music better, too._

With feeble conviction, I strip of every other soaked garment I am wearing and throw on a heavy gray sweater over my underwear. I don't bother with bottoms of any sort; it's more comfortable like this. Muse watches me with some concern as I string clothing over the radiator to dry. Glancing at her sad little face, I say, "Hey, don't give me that look, now. I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all. Do you want to sleep in my bed or in your Pokeball tonight?"

She points to the bed and throws herself onto it, sitting and waiting for me. She gestures to Armstrong's Pokeball nearby. With a laugh, I scoop it up. "I doubt that he wants to cuddle, sweetie, but we can try," I tell her. Upon his release, Armstrong immediately flinches, expecting rain to crash down onto him, but when he realizes he's safe and dry, he raises a brow at me.

_It is quite late for a social visit, Rosa,_ he chastises me.

"So…you've decided you only want to be out if you want to battle?" I ask.

_Of course not, _he snidely replies, _but I sensed some inanity. I was hoping to—_

His voice cuts out as a loud voice from the hallway booms, "And ya can't make me pay for shitty rooms like this, you tramp!"

The attendant shrills something at him from the main room, but I've heard enough to catch the gist of the conversation. Some ruffian is causing trouble and refusing to pay. How unbelievably _low _of him! My inner sense of justice flares; absolutely _nothing _is worse than a bully…well, aside from a strings section in an orchestra that forgot to tune before performing.

Regardless…

Without forethought, I growl, "Come on, let's go make him pay for a night like everyone else."

Armstrong stretches his paw out toward me, shaking his head. _Stop. Please think for a moment about why this is not the best idea—_

I burst through the door with a very enthused Muse on my heels. The door clips something solid and human, and said ruffian curses loudly. "What the hell?" he snaps.

"Hey, you!" I say, pointing at him as though he can see me while facing painfully in the other direction. "I paid for my night here, so you might as well do the same!"

The ruffian spins around, glaring at me with the rage of a Liepard thrown into a bathtub. His eyes rove lower after seeking my face, and I realize I'm only covered by a gray sweater that reaches mid-thigh. _I was attempting to warn you, Miss Rosa, _Armstrong says, slinking out after me. I can almost feel his frustrated aura.

With a dark laugh, the ruffian advances toward me. "There are other things I'm thinking about taking without paying," he says, his voice deep and guttural. He's free of tattoos, unlike most of the men around here, but his muscular bulk and threatening words terrify me.

Swallowing my fear, I snap, "Don't you dare come closer!"

"Or what? You'll…wrap those perfect legs around me?" he says, planting his arms on either side of my shoulders. "Because I could get in on that."

_You cannot talk to my Trainer like that! _Armstrong snaps, and suddenly he punches this man hard in the gut. His breath whooshes out in a loud _whoosh, _urging him to collapse. Muse blasts him in the face with a Water Gun. Now that he's completely flattened, Armstrong gets onto his chest, staring at him menacingly. _Pay for your night or leave. Whichever you choose, if you as much as look at my Trainer again, I will tear out your jugular with my bare paws. _

I don't know that the ruffian has understood a word of Armstrong's powerful threat, but he glances at us in fright and scrambles away, charging straight down the hall and back to wherever he came. A moment too late, tears of alarm spring to my eyes and I sink down the wall until I'm sitting with my knees drawn under my chin. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, _I curse myself. _Should've remembered that I wasn't wearing pants. _

Muse mewls sympathetically, and she snuggles into my side. "Osh," she says. I wish I could understand her, too. Granted, Armstrong's sarcasm has already enhanced my life, yet Muse is so much sweeter and earnest than the caustic Riolu could ever be.

I scoop her into my lap. Quietly, I murmur, "Remind me to watch my back in this town from now on."

"Wott, osh, osha!" she responds, nodding vigorously.

Armstrong concurs, _I suppose so, though everything that just happened was entirely unnecessary._

Rattled and teary-eyed, I scoop up Muse, beckon Armstrong to follow me, and disappear into my room once more. Perhaps this is a town important to Unovan music history and also as the site of my next Gym Badge, but this is a town where I need to remember that no one aside from my two very young and inexperienced Pokémon and me is going to look out for me.

I lock the door with every manner of lock and bolt that is provided, and then I bury myself under the covers. Muse curls into the curve of my stomach and falls asleep quickly. Left awake for longer than my starter, I stay on my side, staring at the alarm clock. The numbers read 12:04, but it could be two in the afternoon for all I know. Sleep refuses to come.

I feel the covers shift, and a small, warm body pushes into my back. _Go to sleep already, _Armstrong mutters. _You sigh far too much while you are awake and troubled._

"Gee, thanks," I mumble to him, but the comforting warmth of his body is enough to make me relax. My eyelids slowly grow heavier and darker until the darkness blankets me in sleep.

* * *

Come morning—when I was woken up by Armstrong's tail slapping against my back in the middle of one of his dreams—I make an executive decision to look the part of a Virbank City girl and less like a gawky young Trainer.

Dressing in skin-tight gray jeans and a ratty black t-shirt printed with a stylized Chandelure that I find squashed into the bottom of the bag, I start to look less like a girl from a safe little city like Aspertia. I throw on my high-collared blue wind breaker and smudge some dark eyeliner under my eyes and voila. Suddenly Rosa from Aspertia could be a girl from Virbank. Muse gazes at me in wonder; this isn't how she's used to seeing me.

"Do I look like a hardcore girl from a slummy city yet?" I ask her.

_You look terribly ragged, if that's what you're asking, _Armstrong comments sleepily. Muse nods in agreement with him.

I sigh. "Well, good. I figure if I look like one of them, they won't mess with me." Throwing my hair over one shoulder and tying it in place, I give what could best be described as a Zorua's grin. "Let's get out of here, eh?"

We leave the room. The attendant from last night looks at me oddly. Back when my mom still worked as an attendant, she used to be gone for twenty-four hours at a time for her job, so I didn't find this particularly unusual to still see her on duty. "Hey, you. Did you even check in last night?"

So far, so good on the native look. I laugh. "Yeah, I did. I suppose you could say I worked a little more on blending in around here."

She squints at me before recognition flashes in her eyes. She nods. "Smart of you. The men around here would take advantage of a pretty little thing like you pretty quickly," she says, tossing her hair. "Good thing you have two tough little Pokémon with you. They beat the daylight out of that man who tried to stay for free last night."

Armstrong crosses his arms defiantly. _I will protect Rosa, and Muse will protect her just as fiercely. _

The attendant doesn't seem to hear him. We leave shortly after and walk out into the rain. This morning, it's far warmer than it was last night. Yet now the rain seems as heavy, if not more so, than when we first arrived yesterday. "Why do only certain people understand you?" I ask Armstrong. "Is that by your choice?"

_Currently, I can only communicate with humans who have aura that is similar to that of my species. I am too young to expand my communication field to people who are unlike me. _Muse glances over at him in interest as he continues to explain, _Rosa, aside from the fact that Muse is incredibly powerful, I wanted to travel with you because you have aura that was like Sensei's._

"Sensei's?"

_The Lucario who saved those of us trapped in Challenger's Cave is Sensei. He protected us and taught us how to defend ourselves before leaving a while ago, _Armstrong explains tetchily, displeased with the rain.

"That sounds like my dad's Lucario. He was always so concerned about everyone else," I murmur, hopping over a puddle in the street. Muse promptly leaps into it, skidding along merrily.

Armstrong shrugs. _Who knows? _He stumbles into a puddle and growls externally. _Do you have some manner of protecting me from the rain aside from the damned Pokeball?_

I think for a moment and then rummage through my bag. Out pops a small, collapsible umbrella in gray. "Unwrap the strap around it and press the button," I explain. "It's an umbrella."

_How is this—oh dear Arceus! _The umbrella snaps open, startling Armstrong. Moments later, he discovers that if he holds it above his head, he's able to protect himself from the rain. A noticeable grin marks his features. _Most excellent. Should trouble arise, I can use this as a weapon as well. _

"Wott!" Muse cries, looking incredibly affronted by the thought of unnecessary violence being conducted by a Riolu with an umbrella. I simply clap a hand to my forehead, sighing. Damned warmonger Pokémon.

Thankfully, though they're warmongers, they at least have a little tact. "Lu, rio ri," Armstrong reassures her in the Pokémon language.

Near a canal, a lanky bald man in a glossy black jacket approaches me. I prepare for another creep like last night's, but this man actually shoots me a genuine smile. "Hey miss. I got a Great Ball here. I'll trade this to you for a Pokeball."

"Why? Isn't a Great Ball a better tool for catching Pokémon than a Pokeball?" I ask, crossing my arms to ward off a cold breeze rising off of the water.

He nods. "I know, I know, but I need a Pokeball. You want this?"

Armstrong, propping his umbrella on one shoulder, gazes at the Great Ball. _It is manufactured by Silph Co., if that means anything to you._

It must be a legitimate device to catch Pokémon; the Unovan branch of Silph Co. makes everything aside from the Pokeballs around here, which a more local manufacturer produces to keep the costs down. Digging around in my bag, I dredge out a Pokeball. "Let's make a trade."

We swap the balls. Nodding to me, he smiles and rushes down to a dock, leaving me wondering what in Arceus's name just happened. After a moment, I merely sigh and turn to my Pokémon. "Well, that was weird," I declare.

Muse chuckles. "Wott," she says in agreement. Armstrong merely sniffs and masterfully snaps his umbrella to his shoulders.

"Anyway, so my plan was to go to the Virbank Complex, I think," I say. "It's this lonely industrial place that inspired a lot of music about twenty years ago or so…and not to mention that you two can get some battling experience there. Lots of Trainers and Pokémon around."

Their eyes light up, and so I decide that it's a good direction to head in. I know that it's at the most southern part of town, and judging by the very wan sun slanting through the clouds over the ocean, all I have to do is head straight through the pathways and bridges of this city. As we walk, doing our best to look tough, I still get catcalls and lewd looks from men walking the streets and sitting on stoops. "Real mature," I mutter to myself, tossing my hair as if their attention didn't matter.

Between catcalls, though, I notice many people sitting in doorways, windows, and alleys, and they play music. What else is there to do in this chilly, unfriendly city? When it rains all the time, it simply doesn't make sense to take up a hobby that needs time outside. Even on a day like today, thought, there are still people out, and some of these people are the ones making music. At one dingy, colorless house, a middle-aged woman with choppy blonde hair pounds away at an upright piano. An attractive, redheaded boy wearing a white hoodie and a black beanie hums to himself and strums blues riffs on an acoustic guitar in a doorway. I want to stop and listen to him, but his friends, much gruffer-looking boys with harsh voices, begin to accost me with their words. "No thanks," I say in an equally harsh voice, and coupled with the look on Armstrong's face, they don't bother me.

"How do you manage to be scary even with that umbrella? You look pretty darned cute to me," I mention to Armstrong.

He snorts with derision. _I would like to believe that they noticed the sharp tip on this umbrella. Also, when one has red eyes, it is easy to be intimidating._

My thoughts flash to Hugh. His dark, wine-colored eyes are certainly frightening. When I first ran into him two years ago at school, I thought for certain that he was a bully. Really he proved to be quite the ambitious, almost comically serious dork in the end. Perhaps Armstrong would prove to be that way, too, someday.

Passing by more musicians, my thoughts flicker back and forth between my Pokémon, music, and Hugh, like tiny grace notes stringing their way through a complicated violin solo. Armstrong glances over at me. _Your aura is humming, _he says.

"Humming?"

_Yes, humming. Are you perhaps thinking about music?_

I nod. "I'm always thinking about music. Considering that you're the one with the umbrella, though…"

Muse snorts. I think she understands that I'm suggesting that he burst into a musical number in the rain, but the reference goes straight over Armstrong's head. He merely shrugs. The rest of the walk to the Virbank Complex is quiet. I end up having to carry Muse, who has tuckered herself out leaping into every puddle between here and the Pokémon Center. She jabbers and points here and there, and I wish I could understand her language…or at least that Armstrong would be kind enough to translate.

The Virbank Complex looms gray and wan against the rain. It's an industrial monster, overtaking the horizon and stinking up the rainy air with fumes and unnatural heat, even at this distance. Muse chatters something, and Armstrong translates, _Muse says that this place is absolutely gorgeous, although the sarcasm seemed a bit on the…heavy side._

"Yeah, it won't win any awards for beauty, will it?" I toss my hair over one shoulder, the wet ropes of it draping down my front. "It'll be a good place to train, though."

Upon entering the complex, I notice here that, in spite of the rain and grayness, there's grass here. It surrounds the ugly buildings in clumps of vibrant green. I notice Pokémon like Magnemite, Patrat, and Elekid darting about, with equally as many gritty, grimy Trainers about looking for a battle. "Osh!" Muse cries excitedly, pointing to the nearest one, an industrial worker with a tired expression and three days' growth of beard.

We battle this man. He relishes the chance to battle; his work is tiring, and even though Armstrong and Muse callously squash his duo of Magnemite, it's obvious that this is probably the highlight of his day by the light that has entered his eyes.

However, my day is made directly after the battle.

"Wott, osh?" As the man pays us for our win, I turn to see Muse standing with a dazed expression. She touches her head, frowning a little, and then she snaps into attention, a wily grin spreading across her features. "Wott!" Her figure begins to glow.

I watch in shock as her form elongates and strengthens, becoming taller than Armstrong. The light dies, and I find myself gazing upon the evolved form of an Oshawott—Dewott. Studying her longer limbs, her liquid eyes catch mine. "Dew?" she questions, her voice deeper.

My face splits into a broad grin. I race forward and scoop her into my arms. She weighs so much more than she used to, but now she can embrace me back with her limbs. Armstrong heaves a sigh at our display of affection, propping his umbrella moodily onto one shoulder.

"Well, congrats!" The worker captures my attention. He can't be any older than twenty-two or twenty-three, if his boyish looks are anything to go by. Reaching out his hand, he says, "Give me five. It's not every day that one of your beloved Pokémon evolves."

With my free hand, I high-five him. I suppose not all of the men in this town are awful and scary.

Soon, with Muse testing her new form, we sweep through the Trainers in the area. Armstrong seems jealous of his ally's newfound power and form, and he works hard to keep up with her newer, more coordinated style. "You evolve with high friendship, you know," I warn him in a bored voice after he single-handedly defeats a trio of agitated Pidove. "If it were by level, surely you would've evolved by now."

_Rude, _is all Armstrong says as he slumps to the ground, exhausted. I dredge a Potion from my bag and spray him with it in an attempt to revitalize him somewhat. Nearby, Muse has picked a fight with a duo of Magnemite. She slices them both with her scalchops for a quick defeat. Sometime soon we will be visiting the Gym in this town, because, in the short time we've been here, they're already outstripping their opponents.

We battle nearly everyone in the complex, and eventually we emerge on the side overlooking the sea. A few others rest here. Here the mechanical noises are muted; Muse, Armstrong and I watch the rain batter the sea. "No wonder people wrote grunge here, huh? It's raining and dreary all the time, but I guess it's kind of beautiful in a way," I say to no one in particular.

_I do not know what grunge is, _Armstrong comments, and Muse nods in agreement.

Before I can start digging in my bag for my MP3 player, a familiar voice greets me. "You look like a drowned Patrat." I look up and see none other than Hugh leaning against the railing nearby. He raises his eyebrows at my expression of shock. "You think I wouldn't recognize you in that getup?" he asks, a note of humor filling his voice.

"It's called blending in. As a female, I need to look like no one can take advantage of me," I respond, feeling mildly tetchy.

He whistles, and a Pidove circling nearby flits to his shoulder. I raise my eyebrows. He caught another Pokémon? Hugh meets my questioning look with a very serious one. "You're not the only one who gets to expand their team, y'know." He also releases his Snivy—well, okay, he isn't a Snivy anymore. A Servine leans coolly against the railing beside Hugh. "We'll beat you," Hugh vows.

I shrug and walk over to the railing to stand beside him. "We're not battling today."

Hugh's eyes tell me that he thinks I'm insane. He incredulously asks, "How do you reject a battle? The unspoken rule of Trainers is that you battle another Trainer upon meeting."

"Look, I know we're 'rivals'," I reply, petting his new Pidove's head with faint relish. He's a very cute little one, probably no more than a few months old. "But we were friends first. That comes first to me, regardless of how badly you want to thrash my team."

He regards me with an unreadable look before sighing and scratching at his jaw. Without an ounce of restraint, he mutters, "Damn it, Rosa. You're…incredibly unconventional, you know that?"

_It took him all of this time to realize such a thing? _Armstrong comments, making me snort.

Regaining composure, I nudge Hugh's shoulder. "I'm well-aware. You're kind of weird yourself, you know."

"Thanks a ton," he says, rolling his eyes. "Yet you're the one who didn't start talking at all in class until I insulted jazz in science. And suddenly the silent exchange student who'd jumped a whole grade level was talking at all of us."

I chuckle, thinking back to that day. The first month that I was in Aspertia City, I'd hardly talked to anyone. After taking aptitude tests (due to a lack of a unified curriculum across Unova schools), I was the equivalent of an Aspertia City freshman while, back in my old town, I'd been just a little above average as a middle school student. In freshman biology, Hugh and his friends sat there. They were sort of trouble students; the group was incredibly sharp, but they spent a lot of their time making the teacher wish that corporal punishment was legal in the region.

Anyway, Hugh made the mistake of rudely comparing something to jazz in a negative way. I can't remember what. But I wasn't about to let that slide, and I called him on it. Somehow, that massive argument turned into him dragging me home for dinner and getting absorbed into his friend group like a Muk swallows up debris it oozes over.

I find myself smiling at Hugh. "Well, you're also the one who decided to drag a girl to your house for dinner after she verbally abused you for insulting jazz."

"Okay, fine, I guess I'm the weird one," he says, visibly startled by the fact that I've given him a full smile.

Standing side by side, the breeze weaves its threads around us. My hair, dripping with rain, isn't even stirred by its presence; it's simply too heavy. Suddenly, Hugh cocks his head, looking at Armstrong oddly. "Why does he have an umbrella?"

"He hates the rain," I remark. "So he's using my umbrella. And also…well…he also uses it as a weapon if he sees hit. He just about hit a homerun with a Magnemite earlier."

"You seem pretty close with them already," Hugh remarks as Muse leans into my side, chuckling.

I shrug. "I don't know why. I mean, you remember how my mom's Liepard treated me."

"Didn't you say your dad's Pokémon were always really good to you, though?" he comments. "Haven't you ever thought that your mom was maybe just a little more, eh, totalitarian or something with her Pokémon? They probably saw you as some stupid little runt who didn't follow orders like they did. Plus, she had an Emboar and all that. They're kind of assholes and brutal and all that."

He leans back against the rail, regarding the way I indignantly bristled. "I'm not saying she was a bad Trainer. I'm saying she had tough Pokémon and he was tough with them. I mean, aside from that Audino."

I gaze at the wall opposite us, where a Growlithe sleeps under the stairwell crawling up the side to escape the precipitation. Back when Dad was still my favorite human being to walk the face of the planet, I asked him so many questions about how he'd trained. "Love and compassion always," he'd always said. "They're good friends and partners. They are happy with us and happy without us, and you always have to remember that." Obviously he couldn't take his own advice, joining Team Plasma and forcibly "freeing" other people's Pokémon, but the words of the kind man who rocked me to sleep every night until I was five to "protect me from nightmares" have filled my head for years. Yet, it's Mom, who raised me so diligently and kindly when he rotted to the core, that I've never asked about her years as a Trainer.

I simply comment, "I've never thought to ask her, and she's also never told me." The Growlithe lolls about as burning steam escapes a vent, enjoying the heat. If I was a more vocal person, I'd probably squeal at how adorable he is. Growlithe notices the attention that I'm giving him, and he watches me with piercingly dark, wary eyes. Like Pidove, he seems incredibly young and naïve, not unlike me.

Hugh sighs. "If you want the damned Growlithe, catch the damned Growlithe."

"He seems leery of me. I doubt he'd appreciate our company," I remark.

"That's not really how it works."

"In my mind, that is exactly how it works. I don't want to take a Pokémon along with me who wants his freedom. If there is a friendly Pokémon who wants to come with us, then cool," I say, "but I don't want to force it."

Hugh groans. "You're so weird." Nudging the utterly relaxed Servine, he gives me an oddly dark look. "I'm going to get going."

I wave at him. "Bye, bye. Have fun. See you later."

A muscle twinges in Hugh's jaw. Pointing at me, he says in heavy tones, "You won't get far as a Trainer if all you do is consider everyone else's feelings." Then, he sweeps away into the misty downpour.

_My, my. You certainly managed to grind his gears, _Armstrong comments. Muse chatters something at him, and he adds, _She referred to him as a "dickwad". What is a "dickwad"?_

I snort, even though an iron weight seems to be compressing my stomach. "We'll get you up to speed on this stuff," I say, taking off after Hugh.

_Thank goodness. There are so many words and colloquialisms I do not understand, _Armstrong comments, ranting about everything he's heard in the past few days. I don't mind. It takes my mind off of the melancholy chords stringing their way through my mind, making me feel sick.

_Just who am I? _I think. _I'm entirely abnormal. I don't fit into anything at all. So the question remains…what am I going to be?_

* * *

_A/N: Hello there, and welcome to, "It's so painfully close to Christmas, and it's really lame of me but all I want is some time off and do the writing thing." Whoo boy. I've had no time in the past three weeks. ;_; So I apologize (again) for the lack of quality. This is kind of just a buffer chapter, really._

_Armstrong's language is slowly going to decay over the story, I promise you that much. Rosa doesn't swear a lot, but Muse, on the other hand...hyuck-hyuck-hyuck...*wonders if it's possible for Rosa to begin understanding Muse and not just her Riolu*_

_So, Unova is a very American region, so I'm incorporating a lot of "American" things into it. For example, jazz, the blues, grunge, rap, and country are all American styles of music, and they will all show up at one point or another in this story. Rosa just loves music and the history of music. I've kind of equated Virbank City into the slummy lovechild of Seattle and Detroit, and Seattle is often considered the home of grunge, although Kurt Cobain, whose name is synonymous with grunge, was kind of born in Aberdeen, so...*shrugs*_

_I can't wait to get Roxie into the story. God, I love her. She and (my version of) Rosa are total opposites in everything but their love of music, and I can't wait to write about their encounters. Plus, her dad. And his failed attempt at film. and BRYCEN MAN. Oh God. I'm so excited; you have no idea._

_My friend still wants me to write that Alexandrianshipping fic (Jasmine x Volkner) that I've had on the backburner for like five months, and I'd like to as well, but there is simply no time and I've already started digging myself a hole by working on two fics at once so hehehe. So, for those of you who don't know or don't usually read author's notes, I started publishing a mini sequel to my first story that I published on here, and I think I should probably stop self-promoting my stories. I doubt it'll be any longer than ten chapters or so. Working on those two on-and-off has slowed down my ability to produce updates quickly. However, I'm hoping to get my third chapter of that story out by the end of this week and the seventh chapter of this one during the first week of winter break.  
_

_Thanks for putting up with the long time it takes for me to update right now. You're all marvelous._

_Leave a review if you wish! I mean, you don't have to, but it'd be cool if you did..._


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